1° 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


O  NON  A*AV> 


_^S  fr/z/t  /f/f/f/  .      //,rr-  _V //  /; //        /t/;/r>/ 


In  the 
Alaskan  Wilderness 


By 

GEORGE  BYRON  GORDON 
ScD.,  F.R.G.S. 


PHILADELPHIA 

THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  COMPANY 

1917 


Copyright,    1917, 
Bv  George  B.  Gordon 


4  6tti 


to  my  brother 

Lieutenant  MacLaren  Gordon 

killed  in  action  during 

the  battle  of  the  somme 

OCTOBER  21,   IQl6 


1510834 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Preface    9 

Introduction 13 

CHAPTER 

I.  A  Meeting  on  the  Yukon    ....  21 

II.  The  Lower  Kantishna 35 

III.  A  Deserted  Town 46 

IV.  The  Kingdom  of  Denali 63 

V.     NlGGERHEAD   AND    MUSKEG 83 

VI.  On  the  Upper  Kuskokwim  ....  95 

VII.  The  Village  Life 109 

VIII.  The  Lament  of  the  Native.    .    .    .  132 

IX.  Shaking  Hands  with  the  Willows  143 

X.  Adrift  on  Bering  Sea 155 

APPENDIX 

A.  Canoe  Construction 167 

Table  of  Distances 172 

B.  The  Population  of  Northern 

Alaska 186 

C.  The  Language  of  the   Kuskwoga- 

miut 236 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 
Lieutenant  MacLaren  Gordon   .    .Frontispiece 

PAGE 

Solitude.      A   Scene   on   the    Kantishna 

River  about  io  p.  m 21 

The  Same  Scene  at  10.30  p.  m.     The  Sun 

has  come  Out  from  Behind  a  Cloud    .     28 
The  Kantishna  Below  the  Fork  ....     35 
Getting  Lunch  on  the  Kantishna  River    37 
Denali  from  the  North.    After  a  Sketch 
by  the  Author  from  a  Point  just  Be- 
low the  Fork 44 

Scene  on  the  Upper  Kantishna 46 

Scene  on  the  Upper  Kantishna 46 

Our  Camp  at  Lake  Minchumina 51 

Scene    at    Lake     Minchumina     Looking 

Northwest  from  Our  Camping  Place  .     53 
View    Looking    South    from    Lake    Min- 
chumina     60 

Denali  as  Seen  from  Our  Camp  at  Lake 
Minchumina.     After  a  Sketch  by  the 

Author 62 

MacLaren  Gordon  at  Lake  Minchumina  69 
The  Author  on  the  Ten  Mile  Portage  .  j6 
The  End  of  the  Ten  Mile  Portage  .  .  85 
6 


PAGE 

The  Upper  Kuskokwim  or  Tichininik  at 

the  Portage 92 

The  Deserted  Cabin  on  the  Tichininik  .     99 
In  the  Deserted  Cabin  on  the  Tichininik  ioi 

A  Woman  of  the  Sikmiut 108 

The  Belle  of  the  Sikmiut no 

The  Sub-Chief  of  the  Sikmiut 113 

The  Son  of  the  Sub-Chief  of  the  Sikmiut  115 
The  Daughter  of  the  Sub-Chief  of  the 

Sikmiut 117 

A  Man  of  the  Sikmiut.    A  Mixed  Eskimo 

and  Indian  Type 119 

On  the  Lower  Kuskokwim 122 

A  Kuskwogamiut  Man,  Showing  Labrets 

and  Earrings 124 

An  Old  Burial  Place  of  the  Kuskwoga- 
miut   126 

Two  Kuskwogamiut  Graves 131 

Another  Form  of  Kuskwogamiut  Grave  133 

A  Lone  Grave  on  the  Tundra 135 

The  Ten  Commandments  in  Picture-Writ- 

ing 137 

Entrance  to  the  Kozgee  at  Ogovik    .    .   138 
Two    Kuskwogamiut   Hunters    in   Their 

Kyaks 140 

The  Author  on  the  Lower  Kuskokwim  .   142 
Canoe  Construction 167 

7 


PAGE 

Canoe  Construction 170 

A  Tinneh  Indian  with  Spear 195 

Birchbark  Baby-Carrier 197 

Image  Used  by  the  Minkhotana  ....  199 
Two  Views  of  a  Birchbark  Vessel  Made 

by  a  Sikmiut 202 

A  Wooden  Vessel  Made  in  Two  Pieces  .  204 
A  Wooden  Vessel  Made  in  a  Single  Piece  204 
A  Wooden  Vessel  Made  in  a  Single  Piece  206 
A  Woman's  Coat  Made  of  Duck  Skins  .  .  211 
A  Man's  Coat  Made  of  Skins  of  Geese.    .   213 

A  Man's  Decorated  Boots 215 

A  Pair  of  Woman's  Boots 215 

A  Pair  of  Grass  Socks 218 

A  Woman's  Headdress 220 

A  Group  of  Kuskwogamiut  Basketry  .  .  222 
Kalthkapok    (Big    Raven).      The    Great 

Axe  Used  in  the  Kozgee 227 

An  Ancient  Inscription  in  Picture-Writ- 

ing 246 

Sketch  Map  Made  Under  the  Direction 

of   Chief   Henry  at  Tanana    for   the 

Author  in  1905 back  cover 

Map  of  Alaska  Showing  the  Route  .  back  cover 
Map    of    Central    Alaska    Showing    the 

Kantishna  and  the  Region  About  Lake 

Minchumina back  cover 


8 


PREFACE 

This  book  is  the  result  of  a  journey  into  unknown 
parts  of  Alaska  made  in  1907  by  my  brother, 
MacLaren  Gordon,  and  myself  together.  On 
my  part  the  trip  was  undertaken  in  the  interest 
of  the  University  Museum  in  Philadelphia,  and 
on  my  brother's  part  by  the  grace  of  Providence 
and  his  own  generous  impulse.  He  was  returning 
from  a  hunting  trip  when  we  met  at  White  Horse. 
We  united  our  forces  and  our  expedition  was  at 
once  complete  and  perfect  in  all  respects  and 
eminently  fitted  for  the  work  in  hand  and  for 
any  work  whatsoever.  We  made  the  journey 
without  guides  and  without  other  assistance, 
which  means  that  we  traveled  in  the  simplest 
and  best  way. 

A  word  would  seem  to  be  in  place  here  in 
reference  to  the  appearance  at  this  time  of  a 
book  that  might  have  seemed  more  timely  ten 
years  ago.  The  incidents  related  took  place  in 
1907,  but  their  interest,  far  from  being  dimin- 
ished, has  rather  been  enhanced  in  the  interval. 

It  is  remarkable  that  although  the  last  decade 
has  witnessed  great  activity  in  exploration  in 
many  parts  of  the  world,  and  although  Alaska 

9 


itself  has  been  largely  opened  up,  the  heart  of 
that  Northern  realm  remains  unknown  and 
unexplored. 

Our  journey,  a  mere  reconnaissance,  was  suc- 
cessful in  attaining  the  objects  intended.  Of 
importance  is  the  fact  that  it  opened  up  a  field 
for  further  work  and  brought  into  view  larger 
tasks  to  be  accomplished  as  its  proper  and  natural 
sequel.  Our  time  was  too  short  to  permit  of 
the  extensive  and  intensive  studies  that  the 
subject  demanded  and  that  would  have  required 
unlimited  time.  It  was  not  my  good  fortune 
to  return  to  these  tasks  and  they  still  remain  to 
be  done. 

After  my  return  in  1907  I  put  together  my 
notes  and  observations  and  worked  up  the  col- 
lections, but  realizing  the  incompleteness  of  my 
materials  and  possessed  by  the  thought  of  some 
day  returning  to  the  work,  it  was  not  my  inten- 
tion to  publish  the  results  of  our  brief  reconnais- 
sance until  I  should  be  able  to  combine  with  them 
the  more  complete  observations  for  which  they  pre- 
pared the  way.  It  is  because  the  opportunity 
for  making  these  more  complete  observations  did 
not  arrive  that  I  feel  justified  in  publishing  this 
narrative,  with  its  many  imperfections,  of  which 
no  one  can  be  more  aware  than  myself. 
10 


Although  I  have  been  unable  to  achieve  the 
fruits  of  a  prolonged  and  intimate  acquaintance 
with  the  peoples  whom  we  met  with  on  our 
journey  through  the  Alaskan  wilderness,  nothing 
can  take  away  the  satisfying  memory  of  that 
journey;  for  every  day  was  filled  to  the  full 
with  the  things  that  make  life  good,  and  the 
recollection  of  those  days  carries  with  it  mem- 
ories that  have  power  to  soften  even  the  loss 
of  the  brother  with  whose  strong  and  inspiring 
personality  and  affectionate  fellowship  these 
memories  are  filled. 

I  wish  I  could  have  done  the  subject  justice, 
for  not  only  did  the  country  appeal  to  us,  but 
to  my  mind  there  never  has  been  a  time  when 
the  waste  places  of  the  earth  possessed  so  great 
an  interest  for  civilized  man  as  today.  To  a 
world  grown  tired  and  sick  and  full  of  fear, 
there  is  rest  and  refreshment  and  healing  power 
in  the  breath  of  the  brooding  wilderness  and 
even  the  peace  of  the  desert  makes  an  unwonted 
appeal.  The  soil  that  was  consecrated  by  the 
plow  and  that  mothered  mankind  has  been 
defiled,  and  till  it  has  been  made  clean  again 
the  untilled  lands  that  lie  stark  outside  the 
tempest — the  haunts  of  the  wild  beast — are  more 
pleasant  and  more  like  home. 

II 


I  want  to  record  my  thanks  to  all  the  friends 
through  whose  support  my  several  journeys  on 
behalf  of  the  University  Museum  have  been 
undertaken.  Their  names  are  written  large  in 
the  history  of  local  education  as  they  are  written 
large  also  in  my  esteem. 


12 


INTRODUCTION 

Although  Alaska  has  during  recent  years 
engaged  much  attention  on  the  part  of  the 
United  States  Government,  financiers,  promoters 
and  the  public  generally,  there  are,  within  its 
vast  area,  regions  that  remain  unknown  and 
unexplored.  Ten  years  ago — in  1907 — this  asser- 
tion applied  with  greater  force,  especially  to  the 
interior  parts,  even  than  it  does  today.  At  that 
time,  as  today,  the  region  lying  west  of  the 
Tanana  and  between  the  Alaskan  range  and 
the  Yukon  was  the  most  extensive  of  the  unex- 
plored sections.  Shut  off  as  it  is  by  the  great 
barrier  of  the  mountains,  and  lying  across  the 
heart  of  Alaska,  this  region  is,  on  account  of 
its  physical  condition,  not  easy  of  access.  To 
this  situation  must  be  attributed  the  fact  that 
it  is  still  in  large  part  an  unknown  and  uninhabited 
wilderness.* 


*  Mr.  H.  M.  Eakin,  of  the  United  States  Geological  Survey, 
himself  an  Alaskan  Explorer,  writing  in  1916,  says  of  the  region 
which  I  am  describing,  "Part  of  the  region  serves  as  hunting 
ground  for  natives  of  both  Tanana  and  Kuskokwim  tribes,  but 
there  are  large  areas  that  apparently  are  seldom  if  ever  visited 
by  either  natives  or  whites."  BULLETIN  642-H  of  the  United 
States  Geological  Survey.  Washington,  Government  Printing 
Office,  191 6. 

13 


It  is  impossible  to  exaggerate  the  importance 
of  Alaska  in  the  future  of  the  United  States  and 
of  the  world.  Its  known  resources,  only  recently 
discovered  and  lying  virgin  still,  are  small  com- 
pared to  the  stores  of  wealth  that  further  explora- 
tion and  discovery  will  bring  to  light.  It  is 
indeed  a  very  rich  and  unimagined  storehouse, 
containing  in  great  abundance  many  of  the  raw 
materials  on  which  the  industrial  life  of  the  world 
depends. 

In  these  days  of  destruction,  we  are  entitled 
to  take  some  comfort  in  the  thought  that,  in 
lands  lying  remote  from  the  sounds  of  strife, 
there  are  stores  upon  which  future  generations 
may  draw  at  will  to  repair  the  waste.  When 
mankind  shall  have  been  delivered  and  the  earth 
redeemed,  the  happier  peoples  to  whom  the 
inheritance  will  belong,  will  find  hope  and 
encouragement  still,  as  men  have  always  done, 
in  the  hidden  places  and  the  regions  where  man's 
dominion  has  not  been  known.  In  the  general 
work  of  reconstruction  and  in  rebuilding  the 
highways  of  civilization,  the  great  Alaskan  wil- 
derness will  contribute  largely  to  the  materials 
that  will  be  required.  When  the  search  for  gold 
has  become  a  memory,  the  iron,  the  coal,  the 
copper  and  the  oil  will  continue  to  feed  the  fur- 


naces   and    supply   the   wants   of   the   industrial 
world. 

The  purpose  of  the  journey  described  in  these 
pages  was  not  an  ambitious  one.  It  was  nothing 
more  than  a  reconnaissance  of  certain  districts 
to  determine  the  opportunities  and  conditions 
for  an  extended  study  of  the  native  life  of 
those  districts.  In  the  main  part  of  the  regions 
traversed  the  almost  entire  absence  of  native 
life  was  a  disconcerting  circumstance  that  did 
not  promise  well  for  the  ultimate  ends  in  view. 
The  central  basin,  drained  by  two  great  river 
systems,  consists  of  timber  land  and  swamps 
flanked  by  hills  and  mountain  ranges,  with  abun- 
dance of  game  but  almost  without  human  in- 
habitants. Never  at  any  time  has  the  population 
of  that  district  been  very  numerous  in  compari- 
son with  its  size  and  resources,  and  during  the 
last  half  century  it  has  dwindled  until  there  is 
hardly  even  a  remnant  left.  I  do  not  pretend 
to  give  all  the  results  of  our  journey  in  these 
pages;  although  only  a  reconnaissance,  it  was 
successful  in  obtaining  extensive  collections  of 
everything  that  the  natives  produce. 

We  found  on  the  lower  Kuskokwim  a  rich 
opportunity  for  the  observation  of  an  aboriginal 
population   who   preserve    their  ancient   customs 

IS 


and  whose  conduct  of  life  is  highly  interesting  and 
instructive.  It  is  time  that  these  customs  were 
made  the  subject  of  close  and  detailed  record, 
for  it  will  soon  be  too  late.  Many  changes  have 
certainly  taken  place  since  our  visit.  The  native 
of  Alaska  is  very  susceptible  to  new  influences, 
and  in  the  presence  of  the  trader  and  other  white 
neighbors  he  dies  away  or  else  his  entire  scheme 
of  life  breaks  down,  leaving  him,  where  he  sur- 
vives, with  only  a  corrupt  and  fragmentary  tradi- 
tion of  his  own.  In  such  a  condition  he  is  unable 
to  make  any  very  trustworthy  contribution  to 
our  knowledge  of  primitive  life.  The  search  for 
such  knowledge  is  our  chief  reason  for  invoking 
his  help  and  the  only  reasonable  excuse  for 
intruding  upon  him.  I  recommend  the  subject 
to  anyone  who  has  a  taste  for  ethnological  study 
and  who  is  willing  to  spend  two  years  on  the 
tundra.  I  can  assure  him  of  a  rich  return  for 
his  trouble  in  the  kindly  human  interest  that 
attaches  to  the  picturesque  and  primitive  life  on 
the  Kuskokwim.  That  region  is  much  more 
accessible  now  than  it  was  in  1907,  for  since 
that  time  settlements  have  been  established  on 
the  lower  Kuskokwim  and  there  is  now,  I 
believe,  steamboat  communication  on  that  river. 
The  best  way,  therefore,  of  reaching  the  native 
16 


villages  is  to  start  from  St.  Michael  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Yukon  and  either  cross  the  "Yukon 
portage,,  or,  still  more  easily,  await  a  small 
steamer  that  now  sometimes  passes  over  the  great 
flats  that  exclude  larger  vessels  from  the  Kus- 
kokwim,  and  that  make  all  navigation  give  that 
part  of  the  Alaskan  coast  a  wide  berth. 

Observations  that  we  made  during  our  journey, 
upon  the  geography  of  the  country,  its  physical 
features,  its  resources  and  its  few  Indian  inhabi- 
tants, have  been  given  to  the  public  only  in  brief 
fragments.  In  the  course  of  time  similar  and 
more  thorough  observations  will  be  made  by 
others  with  more  time  at  their  command.  Maps 
will  be  prepared,  routes  will  be  surveyed  and 
reports  will  be  written,  but  in  some  respects  the 
experiences  of  the  explorers  to  whom  this  work 
may  be  assigned  will  not  be  the  same  as  ours. 
I  venture,  therefore,  to  entertain  the  thought 
that  this  narrative  may  not  be  entirely  without 
value  as  an  Alaskan  document,  although  it  makes 
no  claim  at  all  other  than  to  be  an  accurate 
record  of  personal  adventure  and  individual 
effort. 

Prior  to  our  trip  in  1907,  one  expedition  had 
penetrated  into  the  central  Alaskan  wilderness 
and  reached  Lake  Minchumina.     It  was  a  govern- 

17 


ment  expedition  sent  out  by  the  War  Department 
under  Lieutenant  Joseph  H.  Herron  in  1899. 
Lieutenant  Herron,  with  five  companions,  entered 
the  territory  from  the  south  through  a  low  divide 
in  the  Alaskan  range.  His  route  lay  roughly 
from  south  to  north  and  terminated  on  the 
Yukon,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Tanana.  We  pro- 
ceeded from  the  Tanana  River  by  way  of  the 
Kantishna  River  and  our  route,  lying  roughly 
east  and  west,  crossed  Herron's  at  right  angles. 
Herron's  report,  which  was  published  by  the 
War  Department  in  1901,  contains  a  map  of 
his  route.  On  that  map  Lake  Minchumina,  the 
point  at  which  our  trails  crossed,  appears  for 
the  first  time.  The  Kantishna  is  not  mentioned 
in  Herron's  report,  and  although  he  stated  the 
fact  that  the  lake  drains  into  the  Tanana,  his 
statement,  together  with  his  map,  shows  that 
Herron  made  no  claims  to  personal  knowledge  of 
the  stream  that  flows  from  the  lake,  and  his 
sketch  of  the  lake  itself,  which  he  crossed  in 
winter  on  snowshoes  and  with  dog  sleds,  is  a 
rough  outline.  All  the  maps  of  the  region  pub- 
lished since  1901  are  based  on  Lieutenant  Herron's 
map,  of  which  we  were  ignorant  in  1907  when 
we  made  our  journey. 

The  map  of  the  Kantishna  region  that  accom- 

18 


panies  this  volume  is  based  entirely  on  our  own 
observations,  but  we  had  no  instruments  for 
surveying  and  the  map  professes  only  to  show 
roughly  the  contour  of  the  lake  and  its  drainage. 
It  is,  nevertheless,  although  ten  years  old,  the 
first  map  to  be  published  based  on  personal 
knowledge. 

The  Kuskokwim  River  was  known  on  its  lower 
course  to  the  Russians  as  far  as  the  mouth  of 
the  Tacotna.  In  1898  it  was  surveyed  from  its 
South  Fork  (the  Istna)  by  J.  E.  Spurr  and 
W.  S.  Post  of  the  United  States  Geological  Sur- 
vey, who  started  from  Cook  Inlet  and  ascended 
the  Skwentna  and  crossed  over  to  the  Istna. 
The  North  Fork  of  the  Kuskokwim,  which  the 
Indians  call  the  Tichininik,  was  not  known  to 
white  men  prior  to  our  journey,  except  to  one 
or  two  wandering  trappers  of  whose  presence  at 
certain  points  we  saw  signs. 

Thus  our  route  lay  for  the  most  part  through 
country  either  entirely  unknown  and  unexplored 
or  rarely  visited.  We  were  the  first  to  travel 
across  Alaska  from  the  Tanana  to  Bering  Sea 
by  this  route. 

Writing  of  his  journey  within  the  boundaries 
of  the  same  wide  region,  Lieutenant  Herron  sums 
up  his  experiences  in  a  sentence  that  shows  how 

19 


even    a    well    organized    government    expedition 
may  meet  with  difficulties  in  Alaska. 

"This  report  represents  the  earnest  efforts 
of  a  small  party  in  unknown  regions  against 
extraordinary  obstacles,  deserted  by  guides, 
caught  by  winter,  deprived  of  transportation 
and  hampered  by  scarcity  of  food."* 

If  I  have  sought  to  be  explicit  in  the  foregoing 
statement  it  is  not  because  I  have  a  personal 
interest  in  establishing  any  priority  or  in  claiming 
any  credit  whatever  in  connection  with  explo- 
ration and  discovery  in  Alaska  or  elsewhere.  In 
such  claims  we  were  in  no  way  interested,  and 
for  this  reason  we  had  next  to  nothing  to  say 
on  the  subject.  I  am  well  aware  that  the  work 
of  exploration  is  going  forward  year  by  year 
under  the  direction  of  hardy  and  competent 
men.  I  have,  therefore,  been  careful  to  indicate 
the  precise  nature  of  our  work  which  had  no 
geographical  purpose  whatever  and  which  had 
reference  only  to  the  inhabitants. 

♦EXPLORATIONS  IN  ALASKA,  1899,  War  Department, 
Washington,  Government  Printing  Office,  1901. 


20 


IN  THE  ALASKAN  WILDERNESS 

CHAPTER  I 
A  Meeting  on  the  Yukon 

In  June  of  1907,  the  ice  broke  on  the  Yukon 
and  carried  out,  according  to  programme,  its  irre- 
sistible spring  drive  to  the  sea,  leaving  that  river 
free  to  navigation  for  the  two  thousand  five 
hundred  miles  of  its  length.  The  little  fleet  of 
steamers  waiting  at  White  Horse,  the  head  of 
navigation,  prepared,  each  in  turn,  to  make  its 
first  trip  of  the  season  down  to  Dawson,  the 
far-famed  city  of  the  Great  Northwest.  My 
brother  and  I  had  taken  passage  on  the  first 
boat  and  on  an  early  June  morning  we  swung 
out  from  the  pier  at  the  bright  and  busy  little 
town  of  White  Horse  that  rules  the  destinies  of 
the  Canadian  Yukon. 

To  make  the  Yukon  trip  is  an  easy  matter. 
From  Vancouver  the  ocean  going  steamers  ply 
the  wonderful  inside  passage  northward  for  three 
days  and  nights,  a  thousand  miles  to  Skagway, 
the  terminus  of  the  White  Pass  Railroad  which 
runs   one   hundred   miles    through   very   striking 

21 


mountain  scenery  to  White  Horse,  the  head  of 
navigation  on  the  great  Yukon.  From  White 
Horse  a  flat-bottomed  stern-wheel  steamer  runs 
down  to  Dawson  in  forty-eight  hours.  At  Dawson 
another  steamer  of  the  same  type  takes  up  the 
passenger  and  descends  the  river  to  St.  Michael 
on  the  shores  of  Bering  Sea. 

People  who  have  not  made  the  Yukon  trip  are 
unaware  of  what  a  very  impressive  stream  it  is 
and  few  are  familiar  with  the  romance  and  tragedy 
of  its  history.  That  history  may  be  said  to  have 
begun  within  the  last  quarter  of  a  century  and 
the  names  of  Harper  and  Henderson  and  Carmac 
and  Skookum  Jim  the  Indian  and  his  cousin, 
Tagish  Charlie,  are  at  the  beginnings  of  tradition 
and  their  deeds  are  passing  into  mythology. 
It  was  in  the  eighties  and  nineties  that  these  stout 
Trojans,  perhaps  half  a  score  all  told,  led  appar- 
ently by  some  vision  or  by  the  voice  of  some  desire, 
singly  or  in  pairs,  broke  into  the  Unknown  and 
found — The  Klondike. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  tell  the  history  of  the 
Yukon;  that  task  has  been  well  done  by  men 
who  saw  it  all  and  who  took  part  in  it.  I  have 
just  read  one  of  these  authentic  records  of  adven- 
ture,* a  book  that  will  take  its  place  in  history 

*  EARLY  DAYS  ON  THE  YUKON  by  William  Ogilvie. 
22 


and  literature  with  the  narrative  of  Raleigh,  the 
letters  of  Cortez  and  the  log  books  of  Captain 
Cook. 

During  those  two  June  days  on  the  steamer 
between  White  Horse  and  Dawson  my  brother 
and  I  had  time,  as  we  watched  the  wild  and  pic- 
turesque shores  go  by,  to  recall  to  our  minds  all 
the  tragedy  and  romance  of  the  days  that  are 
gone  forever,  and  we  had  time  also  to  map  out 
an  adventure  of  our  own,  which  was  to  cross 
Alaska  by  an  untried  route. 

Two  years  before,  we  had  visited  the  Tanana 
River  and  interviewed  sourdoughs,  hunters,  trap- 
pers, government  officials,  Indians,  half-breeds, 
missionaries,  Rt.  Rev.  Innocent  Pustinsky,  Bishop 
of  the  Russian  Church  of  Alaska,  and,  in  short, 
everyone  we  met,  for  information  about  the 
same  route  which  at  that  time  first  attracted  us. 
Except  for  one  old  Indian,  no  one  knew  any- 
thing about  it  and  all  advised  against  the  attempt.* 

Chief  Henry  of  the  Tanana  Indians,  however, 
gave  us  some  information  by  the  aid  of  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Jules  Prevost,  the  missionary  at  Fort  Gibbon, 

*  Judge  James  Wickersham  was  then  at  Fairbanks,  where  I  met 
him  and  learned  from  him  that  he  had,  the  summer  before,  gone 
some  distance  up  the  Kantishna  in  a  steamer  chartered  for  the 
purpose.  His  purpose  was  to  climb  Mount  Denali.  He  struck 
across  an  unknown  country,  reached  the  base  of  the  mountain, 
but  was  unable  to  make  the  ascent. 

23 


who  acted  as  interpreter.  Chief  Henry  drew  on 
a  piece  of  birchbark,  and  I  copied,  a  map  of  the 
Kantishna  River  and  of  Lake  Minchumina.  It 
was  thus  that  I  learned  that  the  Kantishna  River, 
which  empties  into  the  Tanana  fifty  miles  above 
its  confluence  with  the  Yukon,  has  its  source  in 
Lake  Minchumina,  that  the  Kuskokwim  could 
be  reached  from  that  lake  and  that  the  Kuskokwim 
itself  was  "good  water."  Chief  Henry's  map 
was  afterwards  our  guide  in  making  the  journey 
of  1907. 

The  latest  government  map  at  that  time  indi- 
cated Lake  Minchumina,  and  a  dotted  line  showed 
the  supposed  position  of  a  river  flowing  from  the 
lake  eastward  into  the  Tanana,  the  great  tributary 
of  the  Yukon  which  drains  the  country  to  the 
south  in  the  eastern  part  of  the  territory  of  Alaska. 
Another  river  called  the  Kuskokwim,  with  its 
source  somewhere  near  the  lake,  flowed  in  the 
opposite  direction  clear  across  the  map  and 
entered  Bering  Sea  about  400  miles  from  the 
mouth  of  the  Yukon,  the  only  Alaskan  river  that 
exceeds  it  in  size.  The  mouth  of  the  Kantishna 
was  well  known  in  1905  to  hunters,  traders  and 
prospectors  and  to  others  who  traveled  on  the 
Tanana,  into  which  it  poured  in  a  considerable 
torrent. 

24 


The  plan  that  first  occurred  to  us  in  1905  was 
to  reach  Lake  Minchumina  by  way  of  the  unex- 
plored Kantishna,  make  our  way  across  the 
divide  to  the  headwaters  of  the  Kuskokwim  and 
descend  that  river  to  Bering  Sea.  After  reaching 
the  sea,  we  proposed  to  steer  our  canoe  along  the 
coast  for  400  miles  to  St.  Michael  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Yukon.  The  whole  summer  would  be 
short  enough  for  the  journey,  and  as  it  was  then 
autumn  at  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing,  we 
gave  up  the  trip  reluctantly  and  turned  elsewhere. 
It  was  two  years  later,  in  the  spring  of  1907, 
as  I  have  said,  that  I  found  an  opportunity  of 
escaping  from  the  city  and  from  civilization  and 
was  drawn  again  towards  the  North. 

Arriving  on  the  Tanana  in  June,  1907,  we 
found  that  some  changes  had  taken  place  in  the 
condition  of  geographical  knowledge  since  our  visit 
in  1905.  Someone  had  reported  the  existence  of 
gold  on  the  lower  Kantishna  and  there  had  been  a 
small  stampede  the  year  before;  a  town  had  been 
built — it  was  named  Roosevelt,  and  then  it  was 
discovered  that  no  gold  existed,  and  before  winter 
the  town  was  deserted,  its  population  was  scat- 
tered over  the  continent  and  complete  solitude 
again  reigned  on  the  banks  of  the  Kantishna  from 
its  source  to  its  confluence  with  the  Tanana. 

25 


When  we  arrived  at  Fairbanks  on  the  Tanana 
we  heard  rumors  that  someone  had  ascended  the 
Kantishna  to  the  lake  in  a  poling  boat,  but  we 
could  never  confirm  this  rumor.  We  found 
several  men  who  knew  the  river  as  far  up  as 
the  short-lived  town  called  Roosevelt;  above 
that  point  we  could  get  no  information  about 
it  except  what  I  had  learned  from  Chief  Henry 
at  the  Mission  at  the  mouth  of  the  Tanana  in 
1905.* 

On  the  nineteenth  of  June  we  began  to  build 
our  canoe.  At  Fairbanks  there  was  a  store  be- 
longing to  the  Northern  Commercial  Company  and 
a  small  sawmill,  and  these  two  establishments 
made  our  task  much  simpler  than  it  would  other- 
wise have  been.  Without  them  we  would  have 
built  our  canoe,  but  it  would  have  taken  us 
longer  and  perhaps  it  would  not  have  been  quite 
so  good  a  job.      From  the  store  we  procured  the 

*  It  has  been  stated  on  good  authority  that  Frank  Densmore, 
a  prospector,  made  his  way  from  the  Tanana  to  the  Kuskokwim 
in  1889  and  returned  to  the  Tanana.  In  a  letter  that  I  have 
received  from  George  Otis  Smith,  the  Director  of  the  U.  S.  Geo- 
logical Survey,  he  states  that  Densmore's  route  is  not  known. 
Others  have  stated  that  he  went  up  by  the  Coschaket.  In  that 
case  he  would  most  likely  have  struck  what  is  called  the  North 
Fork  of  the  Kuskokwim  somewhere  to  the  north  of  Lake  Minchu- 
mina.  Whether  he  saw  that  lake  is  not  known.  From  some 
accounts  it  would  appear  as  if  it  was  the  South  Fork  of  the  Kus- 
kokwim (the  Istna)  that  Densmore  reached  in  his  journey  of  which 
there  is  no  authentic  record. 

26 


necessary  tools,  a  piece  of  stout  canvas  and  the 
nails.  The  sawmill  reduced  our  work  by  cutting 
out  roughly  certain  parts  of  the  framework  and 
the  boards,  but  these  had  to  be  shaped  and  fitted 
together,  and  all  of  this  we  did  with  a  pair  of 
chopping  axes,  a  handsaw,  a  plane,  a  hammer, 
an  auger  and  a  drawknife — all  the  tools  that 
are  necessary  for  building  a  canoe  or  a  brigantine. 

On  the  26th  of  June  the  canoe  was  launched  and 
we  laid  in  our  supplies.  We  took  flour,  oatmeal, 
beans,  bacon,  sugar,  condensed  milk,  dried  apples, 
salt,  baking  powder  and  butter  in  tins.  These 
provisions  were  to  last  three  months  with  the 
expectation  of  getting  game.  We  had  an  addi- 
tional supply  of  flour  and  sugar  for  trading  with 
the  Indians,  and  for  this  purpose  we  also  took 
a  supply  of  tobacco,  knives  and  trinkets.  We 
also  carried  a  moderate  supply  of  ivory  soap  and 
of  olein  soap  and  some  tallow  candles.  Our 
cooking  outfit  consisted  of  a  frying  pan,  a  coffee 
pot,  a  tea  pot,  a  stew  pan,  two  plates,  two  cups, 
knives  and  forks,  a  sailor's  sheath  knife  and  a 
gold  pan.  The  last  was  for  mixing  flour  and  for 
prospecting.  This  outfit  proved  quite  adequate 
and  we  never  once  missed  anything  we  left  behind. 

Our  tent  was  the  type  that  is  used  by  the  Geolog- 
ical Survey  of  Canada.     Its  entire  front  forms  a 

27 


flap  which  can  be  raised,  leaving  the  tent  wide 
open.  This  fly,  when  let  down,  can  be  fastened 
by  means  of  lashings  at  either  edge,  closing  the 
tent  up  tight.  It  has  many  advantages.  The 
fly,  when  supported  at  the  corners  by  two  light 
poles,  gives  you  protection  from  the  rain  when 
you  have  work  to  do  that  cannot  be  done  inside 
of  the  tent.  The  fire  can  be  built  just  clear 
of  the  fly  in  such  a  way  that  you  can  sit  under 
the  canvas  and  dry  yourself  off  or  do  your  cooking 
in  rainy  weather. 

As  a  protection  against  mosquitoes,  we  made 
for  ourselves  an  inner  tent  of  net.  In  making 
camp  we  always  cut  poles  and  pegs  and  carried 
none  with  us. 

An  essential  feature  of  our  outfit  was  our 
improvised  grub-box,  a  simple  affair  two  feet 
long  by  fourteen  inches  wide  by  a  foot  deep  with 
a  securely  fastened  cover.  In  this  we  always 
stored  such  food,  utensils  and  dishes  as  we  had, 
together  with  tea,  coffee  and  various  articles  of 
food  left  over  from  one  meal  to  another.  This 
simple  and  indispensable  device  was  in  use  as 
often  as  we  made  a  meal  or  prepared  a  cup  of 
tea  during  the  entire  trip.  We  had  a  6j^  x  8}4 
camera  with  twelve  dozen  glass  plates,  a  rifle 
and  a  twelve  bore  shot  gun.  Each  of  us  carried 
28 


a  dunnage  bag  for  his  spare  clothing,  his  towels 
and  his  toilet  articles.  When  we  had  loaded 
everything  into  the  canoe  it  was  well  filled  in  the 
middle  without  crowding  the  ends  which  were 
reserved  for  ourselves,  one  at  the  stern  and  the 
other  at  the  bow.  I  forgot  to  mention  a  supply 
of  matches,  and  also  that  each  of  us  provided 
himself  with  a  match  box  consisting  of  a  twelve 
bore  brass  shell  slipped  into  a  ten  bore  shell. 
This  is  the  best  possible  box  for  carrying  matches 
in  the  pocket.  Our  sleeping  gear  consisted  of  a 
pair  of  double  blankets.  The  outfit  was  com- 
pleted by  a  canvas  tarpaulin  big  enough  to  cover 
the  cargo  of  the  canoe  completely.  The  box 
containing  the  dry  plates  was  always  kept  rolled 
in  a  sheet  of  oiled  duck.  A  bag  made  of  Italian 
cloth  enabled  me  to  change  the  plates  in  the 
holders  in  the  daylight.  I  had  brought  with  me 
a  specially  constructed  wooden  box  to  hold  the 
camera  with  six  plate  holders  and  a  supply  of 
plates.  This  was  very  handy  for  packing  and 
was  also  very  safe. 

On  June  26th,  at  four  o'clock,  the  days  being 
long,  we  left  Fairbanks  and  floated  down  the 
Tanana.  When  night  fell  we  made  camp  on  a 
narrow  bar  close  to  the  wooded  bank,  and  here 
we    had    a    lively    experience    with    the    terrible 

29 


scourge  of  Alaska,  the  mosquito.  We  had  pro- 
vided ourselves  with  nets  suspended  from  the 
brims  of  our  hats.  We  also  wore  gloves  except 
when  using  the  poles.  Otherwise  it  would  have 
been  impossible  to  endure  the  continuous  assault 
of  the  hungry  Alaskan  mosquito.  They  are  so 
numerous  and  so  aggressive  during  the  brief 
summer  that  I  have  no  doubt  whatever  that 
they  are  quite  capable  of  killing  an  unprotected 
man  in  a  few  hours.  With  the  aid  of  a  smudge 
fire  under  the  fly,  we  endured  them  while  we 
cooked  and  ate  our  supper.  Then  we  made  a 
bed  of  spruce  boughs  inside  the  mosquito  tent 
and,  crawling  inside,  we  lay  there  and  smoked 
our  pipes  in  perfect  comfort.  When  we  were  ready 
to  go  to  bed,  all  we  had  to  do  was  to  take  off 
our  outer  clothes,  put  them  under  our  heads, 
roll  up  in  our  blankets  and  go  to  sleep. 

Proceeding  next  day,  we  camped,  near  night- 
fall, on  a  high  wooded  bank  in  a  heavy  rain. 
It  was  dark  when  we  had  the  tent  pitched  and 
the  fire  going  in  front  of  it  and  we  were  able  to 
dry  ourselves  under  the  fly,  for  we  were  thor- 
oughly soaked.  With  a  smudge  fire  under  the 
fly,  we  were  able  to  make  fairly  successful  war 
against  the  mosquitoes,  and  we  cooked  our  dinner, 
washed  our  dishes,  lit  our  pipes,  dried  our  clothes, 

30 


kept  the  fire  going  with  heaps  of  dead  wood  we 
had  gathered,  listened  to  the  pouring  rain,  told 
each  other  yarns,  laughed  and  were  supremely 
happy.  In  describing  the  first  camp,  I  men- 
tioned a  bed  of  spruce  boughs  on  which  we  lay. 
At  the  second  camp  also  we  made  for  ourselves 
the  same  excellent  provision  and  during  our 
two  months'  journey  at  our  successive  camping 
places,  so  long  as  the  spruce  trees  stayed  with 
us,  we  never  once  omitted  to  make  ourselves  this 
bed  of  the  fresh  fragrant  boughs.  It  made  no 
difference  how  weary  we  were  or  whether  we 
camped  in  the  dark  under  a  pouring  rain  or  in 
fair  weather;  cutting  the  boughs  and  laying  them 
carefully  to  form  a  double  pallet  was  a  part  of 
the  discipline  of  making  camp.  It  was  a  good 
measure,  for  it  always  insured  a  good  night's 
rest  and  a  refreshing  sleep.  When  we  left  the 
spruce  timber  behind  and  came  to  the  willows, 
we  made  our  bed  of  willows.  The  spruce,  how- 
ever, is  best,  and  indeed  I  do  not  know  a  better 
bed  for  a  tired  and  sleepy  man. 

Next  day,  having  some  work  to  do,  we  broke 
camp  late  and  did  not  get  started  till  noon. 
Towards  five  o'clock  a  thunder  storm  came  up 
and  we  made  camp  on  a  sand-bar.  This  was 
one    of    the    only    two    occasions    on    which   we 

3i 


heard     thunder    during    the    entire    summer    in 
Alaska. 

The  bars  in  the  Alaskan  rivers  make  very- 
attractive  camping  places,  especially  when  they 
run  well  out  from  the  bank.  They  are  below 
water  when  the  rivers  are  high,  emerging  as 
the  water  falls  in  summer.  They  are  formed 
of  clean,  well  washed  sand,  deposited  in  slack 
water  by  the  floods  and  they  thus  afford  firm 
ground  without  obstruction.  They  also  afford 
abundance  of  firewood,  for  they  are  invariably 
strewn  with  dry  splinters  of  the  spruce  and  birch 
timbers  that  line  the  banks.  The  trees  of  every 
size  are  cut  down,  shattered  and  stripped  of 
bark  and  branches  or  split  up  into  a  thousand 
pieces  by  the  ice  when  the  spring  freshets  set 
it  free  and  carry  it,  piled  high  between  the  banks, 
irresistibly  down  stream.  The  fragments  of 
trees  have  a  tendency  to  get  caught  on  the  sand- 
bars or  to  lodge  on  them  as  the  floods  recede, 
leaving  on  each  bar  an  excellent  supply  of  fuel 
where  there  is  no  one  to  use  it. 

These  bars  have  another  advantage  as  camp- 
ing ground,  because  they  are  exposed  to  the 
breezes  and  are  less  apt  to  be  infested  with  mos- 
quitoes than  the  sheltered  banks  with  their  thick 
timber. 

32 


The  bar  on  which  we  were  camped  was  a  good 
example  and  an  ideal  camping  place  in  fair  weather. 
The  thunder  shower  was  quickly  over  and  though 
several  hours  of  the  afternoon  still  remained 
we  decided  to  stay  in  camp  and  enjoy  ourselves. 
We  had  now  escaped  the  world  of  men  and  were 
far  enough  away  already  to  be  entirely  free  from 
care  of  any  kind.  The  temperature  was  about 
the  same  as  a  coolish  day  in  May  in  the  south 
of  England  or  in  New  Jersey.  A  fresh  breeze 
was  blowing  up  stream  and  our  camping  place 
was  free  from  mosquitoes.  We  were,  therefore, 
able  to  strip  and  take  a  plunge  in  the  river.  At 
many  of  the  camping  places  it  would  have  been 
impossible  to  expose  our  skins  without  the  most 
painful  and  even  dangerous  consequences  from 
the  myriad  stings  of  the  mosquitoes. 

The  water  was  icy  cold,  but  we  were  already 
used  to  that  and  our  spirits  grew  more  buoyant. 
The  supper  that  we  made  that  evening  was  one 
in  which  we  availed  ourselves  of  the  utmost 
resources  of  our  supplies  and  of  the  art  of  cooking 
as  we  understood  it,  and  one  of  us  was  master 
of  this  art  as  he  was  a  master  of  camp  life  in  all 
its  details  and  as  he  was  a  master  of  the  art  of 
life  generally  in  all  of  its  relations.  At  first  we 
agreed  to  take  turns  cooking  and  I  had  thoughts 

33 


of  becoming  an  accomplished  cook.  Gradually, 
however,  by  mutual  consent,  MacLaren  took 
these  duties  over  entirely,  much  to  the  general 
advantage,  and  I  performed  all  the  other  work 
of  the  camp,  including  washing  up  the  dishes. 

To  return  to  our  third  camp,  we  made  our- 
selves so  comfortable  and  so  much  at  home  in 
a  few  hours  on  that  sand-bar  in  the  Tanana  that 
we  felt  as  if  we  could  spend  the  rest  of  our  natural 
lives  there  with  entire  contentment. 

That  night  was  a  wonderful  starlit  night,  cool 
enough  to  make  us  draw  close  to  the  genial  glow 
of  the  fire.  Its  cheerful  crackling  mingled  with 
the  murmurs  of  the  river  and  there  was  no  other 
sound.  We  were  already  rested,  and  after  every- 
thing had  been  made  snug  we  sat  by  the  camp 
fire  long  into  the  night. 


34 


CHAPTER  II 
The  Lower  Kantishna 

We  were  up  at  the  break  of  day,  but  made  our 
preparations  leisurely  and  it  was  nine  o'clock  before 
we  started;  we  paddled  with  a  moderate  cur- 
rent for  four  hours  and  stopped  an  hour  for  lunch. 
We  passed  later  the  little  Indian  village  of 
Tolovana,  where  the  natives  had  already  ceased 
to  be  of  much  interest,  and  a  little  later  we 
reached  the  mouth  of  the  Kantishna.  This 
stream  joins  the  Tanana  in  a  swift  flood  about 
forty  yards  in  width  divided  by  an  island  which 
splits  the  current  and  forms  a  fork.  Our  paddles 
were  of  no  use  now.  To  meet  the  opposing  cur- 
rent of  the  Kantishna,  which  we  were  to  ascend, 
we  must  resort  to  the  poles.  There  were  plenty 
of  slender  spruce  trees  on  the  bank,  some  of  them 
so  withered  and  dry  that  we  had  no  difficulty 
in  finding  two  that  were  suitable  for  poles.  With 
these  we  were  able  to  push  the  canoe  against 
the  swift  current,  and  at  8.30  we  pulled  up  against 
a  sandy  bar  on  the  island  that  at  that  point 
divided  the  stream,  and  there  made  camp. 

Here,  in  spite  of  a  stiff  breeze,  the  mosquitoes 

35 


were  very  bad  and  assailed  us  in  clouds.  On  the 
following  day  we  stayed  in  camp,  making  a  better 
selection  of  poles,  smoothing  them  down  and 
fitting  them  with  iron  spikes  and  rings  at  the 
bottom.  These  irons  we  brought  with  us  and 
fortunately  so,  for  we  found  before  many  days 
that  the  poles  in  many  stretches  of  swift  water 
and  hard  bottom  would  not  have  taken  hold 
without  the  iron  bits.  The  poles  were  sixteen 
feet  in  length  and  this  length  proved  almost  too 
short  in  deep  water. 

At  this  camp  we  had  a  strange  and  pathetic 
visitor.  A  lost  dog  came  out  of  the  woods,  swam 
the  left  fork  of  the  stream  and  made  the  appeal 
for  the  friendship  and  the  protection  of  man 
that  only  a  dog  can  make.  He  was,  I  think, 
a  dog  that  had  never  known  much  kindness, 
for  he  crawled  across  the  sand-bar,  slowly  drag- 
ging himself  on  the  ground,  in  the  most  abject 
attitude  that  even  a  dog  in  the  last  extremity 
of  his  need  can  assume.  How  he  came  to  be 
there  I  cannot  say,  but  we  suspected  that  one 
of  the  small  flat-bottomed  steamers  that  ply 
up  and  down  the  Tanana  as  far  as  Fairbanks 
had  stopped,  not  far  away,  perhaps  weeks  before, 
to  get  wood,  and  having  gone  ashore,  the  dog 
was  left  behind.     He  was  evidently  half  starved 

36 


and  in  a  desperate  state.  He,  at  any  rate,  had 
not  felt  the  call  of  the  wild,  or  if  he  had,  he  soon 
tired  of  it,  for  a  more  sorry  and  a  more  melancholy 
animal,  we  both  agreed,  had  never  been  seen. 
When  we  spoke  to  him  he  rose  to  his  feet  and 
there  was  a  look  in  his  eyes  that  I  have  never 
forgotten.  It  had  in  it  the  whole  story  of  the 
relation  of  the  dog  to  man.  It  was  the  appeal 
from  the  past,  the  silent  servitude,  the  tried 
friendship,  and  the  claim  for  protection  of  fifty 
thousand  years.  It  was  the  opening  up  of  a 
weird  vista  running  back  to  the  savage  dawn 
of  man  filled  with  vague  memories  of  companion- 
ship and  devotion.  No  lost  human  soul  in  its 
utter  extremity  could  make  an  appeal  one-half 
so  profound. 

When  he  had  been  fed  he  lay  down  in  front 
of  the  tent  and  never  once  took  his  eye  off  us. 
From  that  time  on  he  tried  to  show  in  every  way 
that  the  one  object  of  his  life  was  to  give  such 
service  as  a  dog  can  give  in  return  for  human 
companionship — his  supreme  need. 

It  was  at  this  camp  that  we  had  our  one  accident 
of  the  journey.  The  fly  of  the  tent  being  up, 
a  gust  of  wind  blew  a  spark  into  the  mosquito 
netting  which  immediately  took  fire.  Mac  was 
upon  it  in  an  instant,  but  before  he  succeeded 

37 


in  smothering  it,  it  presented  a  seriously  damaged 
appearance.  If  he  had  been  a  moment  later, 
it  would  have  been  too  late.  As  it  was,  we  were 
able  to  repair  the  damage.  The  loss  of  the 
mosquito  net  may  seem  a  relatively  small  matter. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  would  have  been  a  most 
serious  disaster,  for  it  would  have  been  impos- 
sible to  sleep  without  the  protection  that  it 
afforded.  Fortunately,  the  fire  was  caught  in 
time  and  it  was  a  little  thing.  My  only  reason 
for  mentioning  it  is  to  illustrate  how  slight  a 
thing  might  have  ruined  our  trip,  and  also  to 
bring  out  the  fact  that  apart  from  this,  not  a 
single  untoward  incident  occurred  during  the 
canoe  trip  across  Alaska  to  the  shores  of  Bering 
Sea. 

At  one  o'clock  we  were  ready  to  proceed  again 
and  we  started  up  against  the  current,  making 
good  headway  by  means  of  the  poles.  The  cur- 
rent at  this  part  of  the  Kantishna  is  about  3^ 
miles  an  hour.  Now,  poling  a  twenty  foot  canoe 
carrying  half  a  ton  besides  our  own  weight, 
against  a  shifting  current,  even  in  good  water 
presents  difficulties  and  requires  both  strength 
and  skill  combined  with  judgment,  especially 
for  the  man  in  the  stern  who  must  watch  the 
water   constantly   and   guide    the   movements   of 

38 


the  canoe  according  to  the  movements  of  the 
water.  The  man  at  the  bow  has  his  own  diffi- 
culties, for,  watch  the  water  as  he  may,  he  cannot 
see  the  shifting  current  in  relation  to  the  course 
of  the  canoe  so  well  as  the  man  at  the  stern  whose 
movements  also  he  is  unable  to  see.  Conse- 
quently it  may  often  happen  that  he  exerts  his 
strength  in  a  direction  opposite  to  that  intended 
by  the  man  at  the  stern,  who  is  already  having 
his  troubles  in  holding  her  true. 

It  is  different  with  the  long  poling  boat  with 
spoon  bow  and  shallow  bottom  such  as  is  used 
by  prospectors  in  Alaska.  Its  great  length  gives 
the  man  standing  in  the  projecting  stern  a  much 
greater  control  in  steering;  its  draught  is  less 
and  its  lines  make  it  less  susceptible  to  the  push 
of  the  current. 

My  own  earlier  experience  in  poling  was  negli- 
gible. MacLaren,  who  had  more  experience, 
usually  took  the  stern,  especially  when  there  was 
swift  water  requiring  extra  skill  and  judgment  to 
negotiate. 

The  river  attained  in  places  a  width  of  more 
than  one  hundred  yards.  Its  banks  were  lined 
with  a  thick  growth  of  spruce  and  birch  trees 
of  small  or  medium  size  with  no  very  large  timber. 
The  largest   trees  were   perhaps  fourteen  inches 

39 


in  diameter.  Projecting  sand-bars  were  numer- 
ous, affording  good  camping  ground.  We  always 
stopped  on  one  of  these  sand-bars  about  mid- 
day for  an  hour  to  prepare  and  eat  lunch  and 
again  for  a  few  minutes  in  the  afternoon  to  make 
tea.  Working  eight  to  ten  hours  a  day  against 
a  strong  current  soon  hardened  us  and  put  us 
in  a  fit  condition  for  anything  we  might  meet. 
On  account  of  the  wooded  banks  we  could  do  no 
tracking  except  for  certain  stretches  where  pebbly 
beaches  or  shallow  water  lay  close  to  the  bank. 
When  the  conditions  suggested  our  taking  advan- 
tage of  these  intervals  we  took  to  the  line  and 
sometimes  waded  knee  deep  or  waist  deep  in 
the  icy  water,  which  by  this  time  involved  no 
hardship,  for  we  were  completely  hardened  to  it. 
In  fact,  our  clothes  were  seldom  dry,  for  the 
drip  from  the  poles,  as  we  swung  them  up  from 
the  deep  water,  kept  us  wet.  It  made  no  differ- 
ence, for  we  were  content  either  way.  Besides, 
rains  were  frequent  and  often  at  night  we  had 
to  remove  everything  from  the  canoe  to  bail  the 
rain-water. 

We  were  now  in  a  country  that  had  every 
appearance  of  game  country  and  we  were  con- 
stantly on  the  lookout.  Moose  tracks  were  very 
frequent  on  the  bars  and  it  was  evident  that  the 

40 


animals  had  been  to  the  river  to  drink  within 
the  week.  There  were,  however,  no  absolutely- 
fresh  tracks.  Bear  tracks  were  common  enough 
too,  but  though  we  kept  a  sharp  watch  we  saw 
no  game  at  all  except  once  when  we  saw  a  moose 
swimming  the  river  a  long  way  ahead.  I  sighted 
for  400  yards  and  fired  from  the  bow,  but  there 
was  a  stiff  breeze  and  the  canoe  was  bobbing  on 
the  waves  and  my  aim  was  bad.  I  fired  as  the 
moose  topped  the  steep  bank;  he  slipped  back 
a  few  paces,  recovered  himself  and  disappeared 
in  the  timber.  When  we  arrived  at  the  place, 
we  found  a  few  drops  of  blood  on  the  bushes 
at  the  top  of  the  bank,  but  we  were  unable  to 
follow  it  any  further  and  soon  gave  up  the  useless 
search.  We  had  expected  to  find  game  before 
this,  and  to  account  for  its  absence  we  concluded 
that  the  moose  and  caribou  had  all  gone  back 
to  the  hills  to  avoid  the  flies,  for,  besides  the 
mosquito,  there  was  another  most  obnoxious 
fly  nearly  as  big  as  a  wasp  with  a  yellow  body 
and  a  painful  bite.  We  were  now  without  fresh 
meat  for  two  weeks.  Our  fare  consisted  of  beans 
boiled  with  a  few  slices  of  bacon,  scones  baked 
in  the  frying  pan,  and  coffee,  with  some  dried 
apples  for  dessert.  This  was  our  dinner.  For 
breakfast   we   had    rolled   oats   with    sugar   and 

4i 


milk,  fried  bacon,  scones  and  coffee.  The  scones 
were  fresh-baked  every  day  at  dinner  in  quantity 
sufficient  to  last  till  lunch  on  the  following  day. 
For  lunch  we  had  boiled  beans,  scones  and  coffee. 
A  pot  of  beans  lasted  us  about  three  days;  warmed 
over  each  time,  they  never  lost  their  flavor  and 
they  always  tasted  delicious.  Indeed,  I  know 
of  no  better  substitute  for  fresh  meat  when  one 
is  doing  hard  work  and  undergoing  fatigue  in 
the  open  air. 

I  am  now  reminded  of  our  friend,  the  dog. 
He  had  accompanied  us  from  day  to  day,  making 
his  way  along  the  bank,  no  very  difficult  matter, 
for  our  progress  hardly  averaged  more  than  a 
mile  and  a  half  an  hour.  His  difficulty  arose 
from  our  having  frequently  to  make  a  traverse, 
that  is  to  say  we  had  to  cross  the  stream  to  take 
advantage  of  the  slack  water  as  the  main  current 
swung  from  one  side  to  the  other.  In  these 
crossings  we  usually  lost  a  short  distance  by 
being  carried  down  by  the  current,  but  these 
losses  were  a  necessary  part  of  our  progress  up 
the  river.  This  was  a  lesson  that  the  dog  never 
learned,  for,  instead  of  remaining  on  the  same 
side  and  making  his  independent  way  at  his  ease, 
he  was  so  afraid  of  losing  us  that  each  time  we 
headed  for  the  opposite  bank  he  swam  across 
42 


also  and  was  carried  much  farther  down  the 
stream  than  we  were.  This  was  fatiguing  work 
for  him;  because  sometimes  he  would  hardly 
have  overtaken  us  when  a  sudden  shift  of  the 
water  would  force  us  to  cross  again.  We  could 
hardly  have  taken  him  in  the  canoe,  filled  as  it 
was  above  the  gunwales.  To  attempt  it  would 
have  increased  our  difficulties  and  we  had  little 
doubt  that  the  dog's  experience  would  soon  teach 
him  to  keep  to  one  side  of  the  river  and  spare 
himself  the  fatigue  of  swimming.  He  kept  with 
us  for  five  days.  We  fed  him  the  little  that  we 
could  spare  and  were  always  hoping  to  get  game. 
He  must  have  been  very  hungry,  but  though 
there  were  opportunities  for  him  to  steal,  he 
never  stole.  At  night  he  always  lay  down  beside 
the  canoe  and  placed  himself  on  watch,  intimating 
very  plainly  that  he  understood  his  job  and  only 
hoped  that  we  were  satisfied  and  found  him 
useful.  To  be  sure,  there  was  nothing  to  protect 
the  outfit  from  during  the  night,  since  we  never 
saw  either  man  or  beast.  But  that  made  no 
difference.  On  the  sixth  day  from  the  mouth 
of  the  Kantishna,  however,  the  water  was  bad, 
very  swift  and  shifting,  forcing  us  to  make  many 
traverses.  Sometime  during  that  day,  we  being 
very    much    occupied    with    the    work    in    hand, 

43 


the  dog  disappeared.  We  thought  he  would 
turn  up  when  we  were  making  camp  at  night, 
but  we  never  saw  him  again.  It  seemed  likely 
that  he  became  exhausted  by  his  constantly 
repeated  crossings  and  re-crossing  and,  being 
caught  in  a  swift  current  or  a  whirlpool,  was 
drowned.  We  felt  sorry,  not  because  we  needed 
him,  but  because  a  dog  will  attach  himself  to  a 
man,  that  being  his  nature. 

On  the  sixth  of  June,  at  8.30,  we  camped  in  a 
small  open  space  in  the  thick  spruce  timber  near 
the  mouth  of  a  creek.  Here  the  mosquitoes 
were  unusually  bad,  but  we  were  able  to  reduce 
the  plague  considerably  by  a  circle  of  smudge 
fires.  The  days  were  rapidly  getting  longer, 
so  that  camping  as  late  as  half  after  eight,  we 
still  had  plenty  of  daylight  to  set  up  the  tent, 
cook  our  supper,  wash  up  and  make  everything 
snug  and  comfortable  before  turning  in. 

We  now  decided  to  spend  a  day  in  this  camp 
and  have  a  try  for  game.  In  the  morning  we 
took  the  empty  canoe  and  paddled  several  miles 
up  the  creek  and  saw  only  a  few  ducks  with 
their  flocks  of  young  but  a  few  days  out  of  the 
eggs.  The  boldness  and  persistence  of  the  mother 
birds  in  feigning  a  broken  wing  and  endeavoring 
to  lead  us  in  pursuit  away  from  the  young,  who 

44 


/ 


-  -'*u^^^^imiii^^mm.  'mimttfffi** 


■•  ■'■•■■   .XCm1* 


DENALI  FROM  THE  NORTH.   AFTER  A  SKETCH  BY  THE  AUTHOR 
FROM  A  POINT  JUST  BELOW  THE  FORK 


were  thoroughly  instructed  to  keep  still  and  make 
no  demonstration  whatever,  were  more  marked 
than  I  have  ever  seen.  In  each  case  the  mother 
bird,  long  after  we  had  passed  the  place  where 
we  saw  the  little  flock  huddled  together  under 
the  bank,  swam  and  fluttered  in  front  of  the 
canoe,  giving  a  very  accurate  imitation  of  a 
wounded  bird  in  distress  endeavoring  to  keep 
away  from  the  hunter.  Having  acted  in  this 
way  until,  according  to  her  calculations,  we  had 
been  lured  far  enough  away  from  the  little  flock, 
she  suddenly  took  wing  to  disappear  over  the 
trees,  returning  unseen  to  her  ducklings.  Instinct 
often  seems  to  be  more  certain  and  unerring 
than  reason,  and  one  cannot  but  wonder  how 
the  latter  faculty  came  to  supplant  the  former 
in  the  course  of  evolution.  Moreover,  in  the 
woods,  one  is  constantly  made  aware  that  the 
resources  of  the  one  do  not  differ  in  kind  from 
the  resources  of  the  other,  and  that  the  wild 
creatures  of  the  woods  employ  the  same  expedients 
and  have  recourse  to  the  same  methods  as 
diplomats. 


45 


CHAPTER   III 
A  Deserted  Town 

We  returned  from  the  creek  about  midday 
and  spent  the  afternoon  on  a  tramp  through  the 
forest  hunting  for  signs  of  game.  We  saw  plenty 
tracks  of  moose  and  bear,  but  we  returned  late 
without  having  seen  any  other  sign  of  their  pres- 
ence. It  was  evident  that  all  the  big  game  had 
abandoned  the  vicinity  of  the  river  quite  recently 
for  the  higher  grounds  many  miles  away.  We 
decided  that  we  would  not  go  in  pursuit,  but 
trusted  in  the  likelihood  that  on  the  upper  reaches 
of  the  river  we  would  find  game,  for  the  higher 
we  ascended  the  more  we  found  ourselves  in  what 
had  all  the  appearance  of  good  game  country. 

On  the  ioth  of  July  we  passed  the  mouth  of 
a  good  sized  stream  coming  in  on  our  left.  This 
stream  we  had  learned  was  known  to  prospectors 
as  the  Bear  Paw. 

At  about  this  time  I  began  to  experience  a 
certain  discomfort  for  which  I  was  heartily 
ashamed.  We  were  often  in  the  water  dragging 
the  canoe  over  swift  shallows  and  I  had  discarded 
my    moccasins    and    indulged    myself    by    going 

46 


SCENE    ON    THE    UPPER    KANTISHNA 


SCENE    ON    THE    UPPER    KANTISHNA 


barefoot  in  spite  of  mosquitoes  and  flies  and  sun, 
which,  though  not  hot,  had  sufficient  power  to 
inflict  a  burn.  Alternately  exposed  to  the  sun's 
rays  and  the  ice  cold  water,  there  set  up  a  pecu- 
liarly painful  sort  of  inflammation  on  my  left 
instep.  Probably  it  was  aggravated  by  the 
poison  of  fly  bites  or  mosquito  bites;  at  any 
rate,  it  soon  became  so  bad  that  I  could  not 
endure  the  contact  of  a  moccasin  and  the  pain 
became  very  severe.  It  was  especially  annoy- 
ing, because  I  knew  it  was  the  result  of  careless- 
ness and  ineptitude.  I  knew  too  that  Mac  knew 
this  also,  though  he  would  not  have  me  think  so. 

On  July  1 2th  my  foot  was  so  bad  that  my 
brother  proposed  that  we  stop  to  take  care  of  it. 
His  tenderness  and  concern  for  me  were  more  than 
I  deserved,  seeing  that  my  trouble  was  brought 
on  by  my  own  stupidity.  He  made  me  keep 
quiet  and  by  his  constant  good  humor  and  admir- 
able spirits,  he  soon  made  me  forget  all  my 
mental  discomfort. 

Next  day  I  was  so  much  better  that  we  started 
out  at  nine  and  during  that  day  and  the  next 
we  made  very  good  progress.  On  the  morning  of 
the  15  th,  however,  my  foot  began  to  trouble  me 
again  and  we  rested  in  consequence  till  3.15? 
when  we  decided  to  go  on  and  look  for  a  better 

47 


camping  place.  We  had  gone  only  an  hour  and 
three-quarters  when  we  came  suddenly  and  unex- 
pectedly to  the  deserted  town  of  Roosevelt.  In 
the  meantime  it  had  begun  to  rain.  The  town 
was  on  the  left  bank.  It  consisted  of  about  a 
dozen  log  cabins  strung  along  the  bank  where 
the  timber  had  been  cleared  away.  They  looked 
as  if  they  had  been  just  built  and  one  of  them, 
the  largest  and  the  only  two  storied  structure, 
was  evidently  the  hotel.  Everything  was  in  good 
order  and  all  that  Roosevelt  lacked  to  be  a  great 
city  was  a  population. 

We  examined  several  of  the  cabins  and  finally 
decided  to  put  up  at  the  hotel. 

The  door  of  our  hotel  was  nailed  up  and  we 
wondered  whether  we  would  be  committing  lar- 
ceny if  we  broke  it  open.  We  agreed  to  take 
chances,  for  the  rain  was  becoming  very  heavy. 
We  pried  open  the  door  and  found  a  perfectly 
clean  and  absolutely  dry  interior.  The  floor  was 
of  rough  planks  and  there  was  a  new  and  per- 
fectly good  kitchen  range  installed  ready  for  use. 
Evidently  it  had  been  used  but  little.  We  soon 
had  the  canoe  drawn  up  and  made  fast  directly 
in  front  of  the  building  and  had  transferred  our 
provisions  and  blankets  and  whatever  we  needed. 
We  built  a  roaring  fire  in  the  range,  dried  our 
48 


clothes  and  made  ourselves  as  comfortable  as  if 
we  never  meant  to  leave  the  place  again.  The 
house  was  empty  except  for  the  range  and  we 
made  good  use  of  this,  not  only  for  making  our- 
selves warm  and  dry  but  for  cooking  as  well. 
We  now  had  fresh  biscuits  in  place  of  scones,  and 
though  our  appetites  never  grew  tired  of  the 
last,  the  biscuits  (and  they  were  good  ones)  were 
a  joy  to  us,  and  in  order  that  our  sudden  and 
unexpected  return  to  hotel  life  should  not  be 
wanting  in  luxury,  we  devised  a  number  of  entirely 
new  and  fanciful  dishes  of  which  our  appetites 
highly  approved. 

When  we  were  ready  to  turn  in  that  first  night 
in  the  town  of  Roosevelt,  we  carried  our  blankets 
and  mosquito  net  to  the  second  floor  and  slept 
on  the  boards.  It  was  the  first  time  we  were 
without  a  bed  of  spruce  boughs,  but  we  were  so 
hardened  by  this  time  and  slept  so  easily  and 
soundly  that  the  hardness  of  the  boards  was  not 
noticed. 

Some  time  in  the  night  I  was  awakened  by 
my  brother,  who  poked  me  in  the  ribs  and  said  he 
heard  voices.  Soon  we  were  both  wide  awake  and 
we  heard  the  rain  on  the  roof  and  we  distinctly 
heard  the  voices  of  men  outside.  What  could  it 
mean  ?     Certainly  we  were  not  expecting  visitors. 

49 


We  were  sixteen  days  without  seeing  human 
beings  and  it  had  been  growing  more  and  more 
clear  to  us  that  we  were  getting  farther  each  day 
from  human  society.  Having  gone  to  sleep  with 
a  sense  of  complete  isolation  and  security,  to 
wake  up  in  the  darkness,  hearing  human  voices 
outside  the  door,  was  an  unwelcome  experience. 

We  had  taken  the  precaution  of  fastening  the 
door  on  the  inside,  but  we  knew  that  it  could  be 
easily  forced;  therefore  when  we  heard  the  men 
(we  did  not  know  whether  there  were  two  or 
twenty  or  whether  they  were  Indians  or  white 
men)  begin  to  pry  open  the  door  we  realized 
that  the  situation  had  to  be  faced  no  matter  how 
it  might  develop. 

MacLaren,  always  prompt  of  action  and  a 
stranger  to  fear,  struck  a  match,  lit  the  candle 
and  was  on  his  way  down  the  creaking  stairs 
almost  before  I  realized  what  he  was  about.  I 
followed,  picking  up  the  rifle  as  I  went.  By  the 
time  I  overtook  him  he  was  already  opening  the 
door  and  at  once  two  men  dripping  wet  came  in 
out  of  the  night.  Their  look  of  unfeigned  sur- 
prise and  their  sincere  English  expletives  at  once 
extinguished  the  feelings  of  uneasiness  of  which  I 
now  felt  rather  ashamed. 

They   had    come   on    foot    two   days'   journey 

SO 


through  the  woods  from  a  claim  or  a  prospect 
that  they  had  on  a  creek.  They  had  run  short 
of  provisions  and  had  come  to  look  for  a  sack 
of  flour  which  they  had  heard  had  been  left  in 
one  of  the  abandoned  cabins.  Feeling  their  way 
through  the  woods  along  an  abandoned  trail, 
they  had  lost  their  way  and  came  upon  our  lodg- 
ings by  chance  in  the  darkness.  They  were  good 
examples  of  the  men  who  roam  the  wilds  and 
keep  beyond  the  farthest  outpost  of  civilization. 
Alaska  at  that  time  attracted  all  kinds — some  of 
the  very  worst  and  some  of  the  very  best.  The 
prospector  is  a  type  by  himself;  you  found  him 
sometimes  alone,  but  usually  in  pairs  on  lonely 
rivers,  sometimes  inquiring  what  month  it  might 
be,  but  almost  never  asking  for  news  of  the 
forgotten  world. 

We  were  soon  on  the  most  friendly  terms  with 
our  visitors.  They  were  men  of  good  information 
and  engaging  manner,  with  the  stamp  of  the 
wilds  strong  upon  them.  Men  who  lead  that 
life  either  end  by  "shaking  hands  with  the  wil- 
lows," which  means  going  mad,  or  else  they 
become  very  quiet  and  very  human.  They  do 
not  grow  into  wild  men.  That  kind  grows  only 
in  towns  and  cities,  big  and  small. 

It  was  obvious  to  us  at  once  that  these  men 

5i 


from  the  night  and  the  storm  and  the  wilds  were 
our  guests.  They  apologized  for  their  intrusion. 
They  were  desperately  hungry  as  well  as  wet. 
We  soon  had  the  fire  going  and  we  had  it  from 
their  own  lips,  and  I  think  from  their  hearts, 
that  they  were  glad  of  our  hospitality.  It  was 
rough  to  be  sure,  but  we  did  our  best  and  we  liked 
the  men  for  their  quiet  but  sincere  and  hearty 
manner. 

On  the  next  day  they  found  the  sack  of  flour 
hidden  in  a  corner  of  one  of  the  cabins,  and,  I 
think  partly  to  avoid  imposing  themselves  on  us, 
they  said  good-bye  and  left  us  to  return  the  way 
they  came,  though  the  rain  continued  to  fall. 

I  now  suffered  more  than  ever  from  my  left 
foot.  The  skin  had  broken  on  the  middle  of 
the  instep,  there  was  much  inflammation  and 
any  muscular  action  caused  great  pain.  On  this 
account,  as  well  as  on  account  of  the  rain,  we 
decided  to  stay  comfortably  where  we  were  till 
I  got  relief  and  the  weather  improved.  For  two 
days  the  rain  continued  and  for  two  days  I  made 
rapid  progress.  On  the  third  day  the  sun  came 
out,  and  on  that  day  I  could  wear  my  moccasin 
and  walk  without  serious  discomfort.  Mac  was 
for  waiting  till  the  foot  was  completely  healed, 
but  this  time  I  had  my  way.      I  was  sorry  for 

52 


it  later,  for  I  soon  found  that  I  was  little,  if  any, 
help  in  poling.  Worst  of  all,  we  soon  struck  very 
swift  water  and  Mac  had  to  do  most  of  the  work 
himself.  It  was  hard  work  too,  but  for  five  hours 
he  swung  his  pole  to  such  purpose  that  with  but 
small  help  from  me  he  had  put  many  miles  of 
swift  and  broken  water  between  us  and  Roose- 
velt. 

As  we  swung  round  a  bend  about  four  o'clock 
we  opened  up  before  us,  under  a  perfectly  clear 
sky,  a  distant  sky  line  where  the  river  divided 
the  timber  in  a  stretch  of  several  miles.  The 
view  which  then  greeted  us  was  extraordinary 
and  startling.  Right  in  front  of  us  rose  a  moun- 
tain, broad  at  the  base  and  culminating  in  a 
steep  and  jagged  peak  high  up  in  the  heavens. 
From  its  broad  base  to  its  summit  it  stood  glis- 
tening white  against  the  blue,  huge  and  amazing. 
We  judged  it  to  be  fifty  miles  away.  It  may 
have  been  more.  We  had  already  caught  a 
glimpse  of  Denali,  the  great  mountain,  half  buried 
in  clouds,  and  now  for  the  first  time  we  saw  it 
naked  and  splendid.  Surely  not  without  reason 
did  the  Indian  call  this  mighty  mass  Denali, 
which  means  The  Most  High.  Standing  four 
miles  above  the  level  earth,  it  is  a  sight  worth 
going  a  long  way  to  see.      We  camped  at  four 

53 


o'clock  on  a  beautiful  sand-bar  with  that  awe- 
inspiring  scene  keeping  its  spell  upon  us  as  long 
as  the  daylight  lasted.  And  the  sun  set  and 
night  settled  down  over  the  valley  and  still  Denali's 
top  blazed  out  above  the  darkness  like  a  beacon 
in  the  sky.  Even  after  it  had  faded  into  the 
night  we  could  hear  from  time  to  time  a  rushing, 
roaring  sound  like  a  distant  wind.  It  was  the 
noise  of  the  avalanches;  or  was  it  the  laughter 
of  the  gods  ? 

In  the  morning  we  had  left  Roosevelt  silent 
and  forsaken  on  the  river  bank,  dreaming  of  an 
Alaskan  summer  day  and  of  creeks  with  beds  of 
gold.  In  towering  Majesty  that  loomed  above, 
he  saw  that  which  was  no  dream  but  an  awful 
presence  whose  voice  he  heard  in  the  stillness. 
It  was  McKinley.*  Serene,  remote  and  robed 
in  spotless  purity,  the  Northern  Lights  were  the 
curtains  of  his  tent  and  the  midnight  sun  kept 
watch  before  his  door.  It  was  thus  that  the 
great  mountain  looked  down  on  the  little  aban- 
doned town,  and  as  we  thought  of  these  things 
we  recalled  the  words  of  Elihu,  the  son  of  Barachel 
the  Buzite,  what  time  his  wrath  was  kindled: 
"Behold,  in  this  thou  art  not  just.     I  will  answer 


*  The  name  by  which   Denali   (pronounced  De-na'-li)   is  called 
on  U.  S.  Government  maps. 

54 


thee  that  God  is  greater  than  man.  Look  unto 
the  heavens  and  see,  and  behold  the  clouds  that 
are  higher  than  man." 

Looking  back  on  these  scenes  today  I  see  in 
the  names  that  thrust  themselves  into  the  eternal 
scheme  of  things,  merely  an  example  of  the  in- 
justice and  lack  of  proportion  as  well  as  want  of 
propriety  that  seems  to  pursue  the  work  of  the 
pioneer  in  America.  There  is  no  evident  con- 
nection between  the  name  of  ex-President  Roose- 
velt and  the  ghost  of  whimsical  human  error 
that  stalks  through  an  abandoned  mining  town. 
Neither  is  there  any  obvious  sense  of  fitness  to 
reconcile  one  to  the  association  of  ex-President 
McKinley  with  a  natural  feature  of  the  Alaskan 
landscape.  These  names  owe  their  presence  on 
the  map  to  no  fault  of  the  public  men  with  whom 
such  liberties  have  been  taken,  but  to  a  practice 
on  the  part  of  pioneers  or  of  map  makers  that 
ignores  both  justice  and  propriety,  and  that 
derives  its  only  authority  from  contemporary 
politics,  mistaken  sentiment  or  false  patriotism. 
There  are  many  people  who  prefer  the  practice 
that  has  given  us  such  names  as  Manitoba,  Mis- 
sissippi, Oregon,  Tacoma,  Popocatepetl  and 
Chimborazo.  For  their  sake  I  am  going  to 
persist    in    using    the    name    DENALI    like    the 

55 


savages  who  have  some  priority  in  the  matter 
and  who  have  their  own  fancy  for  names. 

The  builders  of  the  man-made  town  have  an 
unquestioned  right  to  call  it  what  they  will,  but 
the  mountains  are  not  man-made,  and  having 
seen  this  masterpiece  of  His  handiwork,  I  have 
not  the  will  to  remove  therefrom  the  name  of 
The  Most  High.  If  the  soul  of  the  savage, 
through  the  ages,  aspired  to  God  in  the  presence 
of  this  sign  of  His  power,  to  what  did  the  white 
man's  soul  aspire  when  he  approached  it  from 
afar?* 

I  fear  that  when  we  stand,  as  we  must  do, 
before  a  future  generation  of  men  appointed  to 
judge  us  and  our  works,  it  will  surely  be  found 
that  we  in  our  unchastened  years  of  guilt  and 
shame,  being  full  of  vainglory,  forgot  among 
many  counsels  the  scornful  cry  of  the  creator 
according   to   the   Hebrew   poet:     "Where   wast 

*  The  first  explorer  to  mention  the  big  mountain  was  the  great 
navigator,  Vancouver,  who  saw  it  in  1794  from  that  arm  of  the 
sea  which  he  called  Cook's  Inlet.  Vancouver  records  his  impres- 
sion of  the  view  which  a  hundred  miles  away  was  to  his  experienced 
eye  "stupendous." 

The  Russians  must  have  had  the  same  view,  for  though  it  is 
not  mentioned  in  any  of  their  writings,  they  had  a  name  for  the 
mountain  derived  from  the  natives  of  Cook's  Inlet.  In  1878 
Harper  and  Mayo,  famous  in  the  pioneer  annals  of  the  Yukon, 
ascended  the  Tanana.  In  a  letter  that  has  been  preserved,  Harper 
mentions  having  seen  from  that  river  "a  great  ice  mountain  to 
the  south." 

56 


thou  when  I  laid  the  foundations  of  the  earth? 
declare  if  thou  hast  understanding.  Whereupon 
are  its  foundations  fixed  and  who  laid  the  corner- 
stone thereof  when  the  morning  stars  sang  together 
and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy?" 

On  the  19th  of  June,  so  rapidly  did  my  injury 
heal  in  the  pure,  uninfected  air,  that  I  was  free 
from  all  discomfort  and  able  to  do  my  share  of 
the  hard  work  in  the  swift  water.  The  day  was 
again  bright  and  with  scarcely  a  cloud  in  the 
sky;  we  lingered  in  camp  and  it  was  11.45  before 
we  took  up  our  poles  and  headed  toward  the 
great  mountain.  The  water  was  still  swift  and 
for  two  and  three-quarters  hours  we  had  as  hard 
work  as  at  any  time  since  we  entered  the  Kan- 
tishna.  At  that  time  we  reached  the  fork  with- 
out expecting  it.  The  left  fork  proved  to  be  very 
swift  and  muddy  and  filled  with  the  silt  that  is 
fed  into  it  from  the  glaciers  on  the  flanks  of  the 
great  mountain.  We  pushed  into  the  right  fork, 
for  our  road  lay  in  that  direction,  and  found  that 
the  water  was  quite  slack  and  much  more  clear 
than  any  we  had  seen.  We  found  now  that  we 
could  change  from  poles  to  paddles,  which  was 
a  very  great  relief.  It  was  twenty  days  since 
we  had  cut  our  poles  and  during  sixteen  of  these 
days  we  had  poled  our  way  up  stream,  only  on 

57 


rare  occasions  varying  the  work  by  use  of  the 
line.  To  swing  a  stout  sixteen  foot  pole  for  ten 
hours  a  day  and  keep  headway  on  a  canoe  with 
a  considerable  draught,  against  a  current  that 
varies  from  two  miles  to  five  miles  an  hour  is 
exercise  which  I  can  recommend  for  any  one  who 
wants  to  get  in  good  condition  in  a  short  time. 

The  whole  aspect  of  the  country  was  now 
changed.  The  spruce  timber  disappeared  and 
gave  way  to  a  thick  growth  of  willow  and  alder 
with  occasional  small  birch.  Also  the  banks 
were  of  clay  and  low  with  numerous  ponds  on 
either  side.  There  were  no  longer  any  sand-bars 
and  good  camping  places  were  hard  to  find. 

On  the  20th  of  July  we  passed  the  mouth  of  a 
clear  stream  on  the  left  with  a  deserted  Indian 
cabin  on  the  bank.  This  stream  we  afterwards 
learned  is  called  by  the  Indians  Nutchitalichakat. 
After  this  the  water  grew  more  slack,  the  banks 
more  muddy  and  the  country  more  swampy. 
We  missed  the  firm  sand  and  the  hard  dry  ground 
under  the  spruce  trees  that  afforded  such  good 
camping  places  on  the  lower  Kantishna.  Often 
in  stepping  ashore  on  what  was  apparently  a 
grassy  bank  we  found  oozy  mud,  and  this  was  a 
condition  we  had  to  get  used  to  and  make  the 
most  of.      In  places  there  was  long  grass  grow- 

58 


ing  in  the  mud.  By  covering  the  growth  with 
willow  twigs  we  were  able  to  make  ourselves 
comfortable  in  our  tent.  Dry  firewood  became 
scarce,  but  we  always  managed  to  gather  enough. 

However,  there  were  compensations  and  they 
were  by  no  means  small  ones.  The  water  grew 
more  slack  and  paddling  became  easier.  Then 
the  numerous  ponds  proved  to  be  the  haunts  of 
ducks  and  we  were  in  sight  of  flocks  most  of 
the  time.  The  young  were  now  grown.  It  was 
on  the  2 1  st  of  July  that  we  saw  the  first  of  these 
flocks  and  shot  three  mallard  and  a  widgeon. 
(Naturally  we  did  not  shoot  the  birds  with  young 
that  we  saw  on  the  7th.)  I  soon  became  ac- 
quainted with  and  learned  to  distinguish  almost 
every  variety  of  duck  that  is  known  on  the 
American  continent.  The  most  common  were 
mallard,  canvas  back,  teal  and  widgeon.  It  was 
one  of  my  brother's  many  accomplishments  that 
he  knew  everything  in  fur  and  feather  from 
Mexico  to  the  Arctic.  He  knew  their  habits 
and  he  knew  them  in  all  their  varieties.  Conse- 
quently I  learned  many  things  in  those  three 
months  that  I  have  forgotten  since. 

The  days  had  now  grown  so  long  that  there 
was  scarcely  an  hour  of  darkness.  The  sun  was 
still  above  the  horizon  at  ten  o'clock  p.  m.     On 

59 


the  2 1  st,  the  day  that  we  shot  our  first  game,  we 
stopped  for  two  hours  to  prepare  one  of  them 
and  to  enjoy  the  first  meal  of  meat  in  twenty- 
three  days.  The  ducks  were  fat  and  in  fine  con- 
dition, and  being  cooked  in  a  frying  pan,  the 
readiest  way  of  preparing  them,  I  am  sure  nothing 
ever  tasted  so  good  to  anyone.  We  were  now  in 
the  pink  of  condition,  as  hard  as  flesh  and  sinew 
could  be  made  and  in  perfect  health.  On  that 
day  we  kept  on  paddling  until  after  midnight 
and  then  we  found  that  the  night  had  vanished 
and  the  darkness  was  blended  with  the  day. 
There  was  a  long  twilight  which  grew  till  mid- 
night and  then  it  began  to  lighten  again.  On 
the  following  day  we  started  at  2  p.  m.  and  it 
was  again  midnight  before  we  camped.  We  were 
several  hours  searching  for  a  suitable  camping 
place  and  were  finally  compelled  to  pitch  our 
tent  in  the  mud  and  make  the  best  of  it. 

Altogether  we  were  taking  it  very  easy  and 
enjoying  the  good  fare,  the  fine  weather  and 
the  easy  going.  The  river  at  this  part  is  extremely 
crooked.  It  is  always  turning  and  doubling  back 
upon  itself  and  reversing  its  direction  for  miles. 
At  times  it  spreads  out  over  the  flat  country  or 
divides  and  breaks  up  into  many  sloughs,  often 
very  bewildering.  If  you  happen  to  take  a  wrong 
60 


*5ja 

1 

S      ^        1  si 

1 

'I                    l 

i 

. 

' 

1                                  ; 

> 

! 

i 

» 

turn  you  may  be  led  many  miles  away  from  the 
main  stream  without  knowing  it. 

For  several  days  we  felt  that  the  lake  must  be 
at  hand,  and  at  every  turn  we  expected  to  see  it 
spread  before  us.  A  certain  streakiness  in  the 
water  puzzled  us.  At  places  it  presented  a  dark 
appearance  and  in  close  proximity  another  streak 
presented  a  lighter  color  due  apparently  to  finely 
divided  particles  of  rock  that  it  carried  in  sus- 
pension. This  we  recognized  as  glacial  silt  and 
we  therefore  concluded  that  there  must  be  a 
glacial  stream  coming  into  the  Kantishna  between 
us  and  the  outlet  of  the  lake,  the  lake  itself 
supplying  the  clear  dark  water.  After  paddling 
for  two  days  more  through  a  flat  and  dreary 
country,  without  reaching  the  lake,  we  began 
to  doubt  the  accuracy  of  our  deductions,  and  my 
brother  asked  me  if  I  thought  we  could  have  got 
on  the  Amazon  by  mistake. 

On  these  wonderful  days  of  sheer  delight  we 
never  left  camp  till  after  we  had  lunch.  We 
stopped  always  later  in  the  day  to  make  tea  and 
camped  about  midnight.  On  July  24th  we  broke 
camp  at  3.15.  Shortly  afterwards  we  shot  our  first 
goose  and  at  seven  o'clock,  after  we  had  decided 
to  forget  about  the  lake,  our  immediate  goal,  we 
turned  a  sharp  bend  and  there  it  lay  spread  out 

61 


in  front  of  us.  Just  at  its  outlet  a  swift  stream 
comes  in  from  the  south  from  the  direction  of 
Mount  Denali,  heavily  charged  with  silt  from 
the  glaciers.  We  afterwards  learned  that  this 
stream  is  called  by  the  Indians  Kwalana.  When 
we  had  passed  this  tributary  and  entered  the  lake 
we  found  the  water  perfectly  clear,  and  we  had 
soon  selected  a  good  camping  place  on  the  shore 
not  far  from  the  outlet.  The  shore  at  this  point 
was  hard  and  pebbly  and  covered  with  a  thick 
growth  of  willows  and  alder  and  small  birch. 
We  saw  a  promontory  with  a  high  bluff  to  the 
southwest  across  the  lake  and  fixed  upon  this 
as  a  lookout  from  which  to  take  our  observations. 
The  next  morning  being  clear  and  with  only 
light  winds  we  crossed  to  this  promontory  in 
about  an  hour,  passed  round  its  extremity  and, 
turning  to  the  south,  drew  our  canoe  up  under 
a  high  bluff  with  a  sandy  beach  at  its  base. 
The  promontory  terminates  in  a  spit  ending  in 
a  long  sand  bar  that  runs  straight  out  under  water 
and  forms  a  shoal.  It  is  well,  therefore,  for  any- 
one crossing  the  lake  to  give  this  point  a  wide 
berth. 


62 


DENALI    AS    SEEN    FROM    OUR    CAMP   AT    LAKE    MINCHUMINA. 
AFTER    A    SKETCH    BY    THE    AUTHOR 


CHAPTER   IV 
The  Kingdom  of  Denali 

We  climbed  the  bluff  and  followed  the  wooded 
ridge  southward  until  it  began  to  fall  away. 
Returning  to  a  high  point  which  we  had  marked, 
where  the  wood  was  sufficiently  open  to  give  a 
good  outlook,  we  searched  with  the  glass  the 
horizon  and  the  border  of  the  lake  in  every 
direction.  In  the  north  the  country  was  flat 
and  wooded.  Around  the  southern  shore  there 
stretched  a  narrow  belt  of  the  same  low  lying 
scrub  timber;  behind  that  belt,  the  land  rose 
and  showed  bare  of  timber.  Still  farther  back 
the  higher  hills  were  covered  with  snow;  back 
of  that  rose  the  Alaskan  range  and,  lifted  over 
all,  the  loom  of  Denali,  shimmering  white,  lit 
up  the  Southern  sky.  From  this  point  of  obser- 
vation the  mountain  shows  a  double  peak.  We 
judged  it  to  be  about  fifty  miles  away,  but  so 
great  is  its  height  and  mass  that  it  seemed  much 
nearer.  On  so  vast  a  scale  are  its  scarps  and 
ramps  that  they  were  clearly  revealed  even  at 
that  distance.  We  agreed  that  we  had  never 
seen    anything    so    overpowering    in    its    solitary 

63 


grandeur.  Near  it,  towards  the  west,  stands 
another  peak  not  so  high  or  so  grand,  which,  as 
we  were  soon  to  learn,  the  Indians  call  Sultana 
and  also  Menlale. 

This  was  the  panorama  that  presented  itself 
from  our  point  of  observation;  not  a  living  thing 
was  in  sight,  not  a  sign  of  an  Indian  habitation, 
not  a  sound,  not  a  trace  of  human  occupation. 
We  were  alone  in  the  heart  of  a  vast  and  unbroken 
wilderness  where,  so  far  as  we  could  see,  the  foot 
of  man  had  left  no  trace.  Yet  somewhere  on 
that  lake  we  expected  to  find  Indians,  so  we  con- 
tinued to  search  the  shores  with  the  glass.  The 
lake  seemed  to  be  about  twelve  miles  across  at 
its  greatest  width,  and  there  were  plenty  of  little 
bays  where  a  village  might  be  hidden.  We  had 
about  concluded  to  start  out  on  a  complete  cir- 
cumnavigation of  the  lake  when  MacLaren 
declared  that  he  saw  smoke  and  handed  me 
the  glass.  Across  the  lake  at  the  right,  a  very 
slender  wisp  of  smoke  hung  against  the  spruce. 
It  was  enough:  we  descended  to  where  the  canoe 
was  beached,  lit  our  fire,  cooked  our  midday  meal, 
took  plenty  of  time  to  digest  it  comfortably  and 
started  out  in  the  direction  whence  we  had  marked 
the  smoke,  now  vanished. 

Arriving   at    the   opposite   side   we    rounded   a 

64 


long  narrow  point  of  low  land  covered  with  trees 
and  saw  an  encampment  consisting  of  three  brush 
tents,  the  summer  camp  of  a  band  of  Indians. 
We  landed  and  were  met  by  two  men  and  seven 
dogs,  the  latter  so  savage  and  threatening  that 
the  men  had  to  beat  them  down.  In  the  tents 
were  three  women  and  two  children.  In  panto- 
mime we  explained  to  the  men  that  we  had  come 
to  visit  them,  pointing  out  the  way  we  had 
traveled.  By  similar  pantomime  they  told  us 
a  story  by  which  we  understood  them  to  mean 
that  they  had  both  made  a  journey  several  years 
before  down  the  Kantishna  to  the  Mission  at 
Tanana.  They  had  apparently  remained  there 
long  enough  to  be  baptised,  for  one  explained 
that  he  was  called  Luke  and  the  other  that  he 
was  called  John.  At  least  that  is  the  way  it 
sounded  to  us  and  I  think  that  we  understood 
correctly.  They  had  brought  with  them  some 
cloth,  some  empty  tins  and  an  empty  bottle,  all 
of  which  they  exhibited  to  us  with  pride  as  the 
evidence  of  their  adoption  of  the  white  man's 
civilization.  Each  had  also  a  complete  suit  of 
white  man's  clothes  including  the  braces.  That 
was  not  the  only  evidence  of  their  conversion, 
for  we  had  not  been  long  with  them  when  they 
asked   us   for   "hooch,"    meaning    strong   drink, 

65 


and  seemed  greatly  disappointed  to  find  that  we 
had  none.  We  made  them  presents  of  tobacco 
and  a  few  trinkets  and  left  them  to  establish 
ourselves  on  a  good  camping  place  which  we  had 
passed  at  the  end  of  the  point  of  land.  Before 
leaving,  however,  we  were  treated  to  a  surprise. 
There  was  something  the  Indians  were  anxious 
to  tell  us,  for  they  kept  repeating  certain  signs 
with  great  earnestness  as  though  they  wished  to 
communicate  some  information  of  importance. 
The  only  English  word  they  knew  was  "man" 
and  after  a  long  struggle  we  made  out  that  they 
were  telling  us  that  two  white  men  had  passed 
ten  days  before,  coming  the  same  way  as  we 
had  come  and  had  passed  on  towards  the  north 
in  a  direction  which  we  felt  to  correspond  to 
the  route  we  were  to  travel. 

These  men,  it  seemed,  had  come  in  a  large 
poling  boat  filled  with  many  sacks  and  boxes, 
clearly  a  pair  of  prospectors.  We  then  made 
diligent  inquiries  as  to  whether  other  white  men 
had  ever  passed  this  way.  They  gave  us  to 
understand  then  and  afterwards,  as  we  saw  them 
day  by  day,  that  the  only  white  men  who  had 
passed  previously  was  a  party  of  six  who  had 
come  from  the  southwest  and  passed  to  the  north 
with  dog  sleds  in  the  winter  some  years  before. 
66 


This    clearly    referred     to    Lieutenant     Herron's 
party. 

We  made  a  snug  camp  on  the  sand-bar  at  the 
end  of  the  point  and  decided  to  remain  a  few 
days  to  rest  and  enjoy  ourselves  and  learn  all 
we  could  from  the  Indians  and  trade  with  them. 
On  the  following  day  the  two  men  came  in  their 
light  birchbark  canoe  and  brought  us  presents  of 
moose  meat  and  white  fish,  the  latter  fresh  caught 
in  the  lake. 

Our  first  effort  was  to  learn  the  geography  of 
the  country,  and  we  had  no  difficulty  whatever 
in  making  this  wish  known.  First  on  the  sand 
and  afterwards  on  a  piece  of  birchbark,  the  natives 
drew  a  complete  map  of  the  lake  with  the  streams 
that  enter  and  leave  it,  and,  most  important  for 
us,  they  were  able  to  show  where  the  head  of  the 
great  Kuskokwim  lay,  how  it  was  to  be  reached 
from  the  lake,  and  the  exact  position  of  the 
portage.  This  portage  had  remained  an  unknown 
quantity  in  our  minds;  we  had  expected  it  to 
be  long  and  it  might  be  high  or  it  might  be  low. 
On  this  point  Chief  Henry  had  not  been  very 
explicit  in  1905,  though  from  his  statement  about 
it  we  judged  it  to  be  about  twenty  miles  in  length. 
All  we  knew  positively  was  that  there  must  be 
a    divide    between    Lake    Minchumina    and    the 

67 


Kuskokwim,  a  divide  which  separates  the  two 
greatest  river  systems  of  Northern  Alaska,  and 
we  assumed  for  this  reason  that  it  must  be  a 
considerable  barrier.  We  were  naturally  anxious 
to  know  how  long  it  would  take  us  to  cross  this 
divide.  On  the  map  drawn  by  the  aid  of  the 
Indians  it  looked  as  if  it  might  be  a  reasonable 
day's  journey  for  a  man  traveling  with  a  light 
pack,  and  from  our  own  observations  we  had 
already  seen  that  there  could  be  no  very  high 
ground.  When  we  questioned  the  Indians  more 
particularly,  however,  they  explained  that  it  was 
a  five  days'  journey  for  a  man  traveling  light. 
This  was  rather  more  than  we  had  hoped  for. 
The  Indians  may  have  had  their  own  reasons  for 
exaggerating  the  distance,  for  we  afterwards  had 
the  comfort  of  discovering  that  in  this  particular 
information  they  were  unmerciful  liars — were 
Luke  and  John.  Ten  days  later  when  we  had 
demonstrated  this  fact  by  crossing  the  portage 
ourselves,  we  found  some  diversion  in  trying  to 
find  the  motive  that  was  back  of  this  falsehood. 
We  finally  decided  that  they  meant  it  as  a 
reminder  that  they  had  at  least  mastered  the 
rudiments  of  civilization  and  had  not  failed  to 
profit  by  their  brief  sojourn  among  people  of  our 
race.  At  first  we  were  inclined  to  trust  them, 
68 


for  experience  had  long  convinced  us  both  that 
untutored  Indians  are  particularly  trustworthy. 

I  must  here  explain  that  the  winter  camp  of 
the  band  to  which  these  two  men  and  three 
women  belonged,  lay  to  the  southwest  side  of 
the  lake.  All  the  rest  of  the  band  were  far  away 
hunting  near  the  mountains.  The  men  who 
remained  were  undoubtedly  lazy  and  worthless 
fellows,  otherwise  they  would  have  been  with 
the  hunters  who,  with  their  women,  were  at 
that  time  camped  on  the  hunting  ground  gather- 
ing and  preparing  meat  and  skins  for  their  winter 
food  and  clothing. 

One  of  the  things  that  we  learned  was  that 
the  Indians  who  live  on  Lake  Minchumina,  on  the 
Kantishna  and  on  the  Tichininik  (North  Fork  of 
the  Kuskokwim)  call  themselves  "  Minkhotana " 
(meaning  Lake  People).  I  could  form  only  a 
rough  idea  of  their  numbers,  but  one  of  the 
statements  in  which  our  informants  always  per- 
sisted was  that  the  Minkhotana  had  formerly 
been  a  large  tribe  with  many  villages  on  the  lake, 
on  the  Tichininik,  on  the  Kwalana  and  on  other 
streams  over  towards  the  mountains.  The  people 
living  on  the  lower  Kuskokwim,  i.  e.,  the  Eskimo, 
they  called  Totzatla  Retu. 

The    arts    and    industries    of   the    Minkhotana 

69 


Indians,  like  those  of  the  Tenan-Kutchin  and 
tribes  in  other  interior  parts  of  Alaska,  are  con- 
fined almost  entirely  to  the  manufacture  of  cloth- 
ing and  household  utensils. 

The  clothing  is  made  of  the  skins  of  animals 
and  especially  of  the  moose.  The  most  important 
industry,  that  of  dressing  the  skins,  is  carried  on 
almost  entirely  by  the  women.  The  inner  side 
of  the  skin  is  first  scraped  to  remove  adhering 
pieces  of  flesh.  After  this,  the  hair  is  removed 
by  scraping.  The  brain  of  the  animal  is  boiled 
and  reduced  to  a  paste  and  this  paste  is  applied 
over  the  entire  inner  surface  of  the  skin  on 
account  of  the  softening  effect.  The  skin  is 
scalded  and  is  then  wrung  and  stripped  of  the 
water  and  when  dry  is  softened  by  rubbing. 
The  final  operation  in  this  process  consists  of 
6moking  the  skin.  A  small  tent  is  built  of  poles 
stuck  in  the  ground  covered  with  pieces  of  skin 
or  with  brush.  Inside  this  tent  the  skin  to  be 
treated  is  suspended  over  a  pile  of  decayed  wood. 
This  decayed  wood  is  ignited  and  the  tent  closed 
up  tight. 

For  winter  clothing  the  skins  of  fur  bearing 
animals  are  dressed  with  the  fur  left  on. 

The  effect  of  the  smoking  on  the  skin  is  to 
give  it  a  rich  brown  color  which  seems  to  be  its 
70 


only  purpose.  This  part  of  the  process  is  done, 
therefore,  for  purely  aesthetic  reasons.  Besides 
the  brown  color,  the  smoking  of  the  skin  imparts 
to  it  a  peculiar  and  highly  characteristic  odor, 
which,  to  one  who  becomes  accustomed  to  it,  is 
both  pleasant  and  distinctive.  One  whiff  of  that 
smoky  smell  after  years  of  city  life  brings  back 
with  great  vividness  all  the  details  of  life  in  an 
Indian  camp.  The  clothing  made  from  skins 
prepared  in  this  fashion  never  loses  the  char- 
acteristic odor.  Men  and  women  wearing  this 
clothing  carry  with  them  always  the  agreeable 
smoky  smell.  Kipling's  poetical  and  highly 
descriptive  allusion  to  "a  silent  smoky  Indian 
that  I  know"  applies  to  an  Indian  of  the  great 
timber  belts  of  the  American  Continent  east  and 
west  and  especially  to  the  Indian  of  the  North- 
west and  of  Alaska.  In  other  words,  it  applies 
to  the  tribes  that  smoke  the  dressed  skins  from 
which  they  make  their  clothing. 

The  other  important  industry  consists  in  the 
manufacture  of  articles  from  birchbark.  These 
products  vary  from  drinking  cups  to  the  big 
canoes  which  carry  eight  or  ten  people.  Food 
dishes,  cooking  vessels,  bowls,  basins,  tubs  are 
all  made  from  birchbark.  The  manufacture  of 
these  articles  shows  a  great  deal  of  skill  and  of 

7i 


artistic  taste.  The  borders  are  always  bound 
with  spruce  roots,  sometimes  beautifully  decorated. 
Especially  neat  and  decorative  are  the  cradles  or 
baby  carriers  of  birchbark  bound  with  spruce 
roots.  The  canoes  are  built  with  flat  bottoms, 
sloping  sides,  shallow  draught,  and  with  high 
pointed  ends.  They  vary  in  size  from  light  one 
man  canoes  to  the  larger  ones  that  I  have  men- 
tioned. As  the  birch  trees  do  not  grow  large, 
no  canoe  is  ever  made  of  a  single  piece  of  bark 
like  many  of  the  Penobscot  canoes  in  Maine  and 
New  Brunswick.  The  small  pieces  are  fastened 
to  the  ribs  separately  and  the  joints  are  covered 
with  balsam. 

The  furniture  in  an  Indian  house  consists  of 
piles  of  skins  on  which  the  various  members  sleep 
or  upon  which  they  sit  or  lie  during  idle  hours 
in  the  day.  The  hearth  is  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor  below  the  smoke  hole  in  the  roof.  The  sum- 
mer houses  are  built  of  brush  and  the  winter 
houses  of  logs. 

It  is  always  difficult  to  obtain  from  a  primi- 
tive people  much  information  about  their  religious 
life.  Luke  and  John,  having  visited  a  Mission, 
were  particularly  reticent  on  this  subject,  and 
our  efforts  did  not  elicit  any  information  that 
could    be    regarded    as    trustworthy.       However, 

72 


I  obtained  accidentally  a  bit  of  authentic  informa- 
tion of  real  interest,  to  throw  some  light  on  the 
subject. 

One  day  when  I  visited  the  Indian  encamp- 
ment, Luke  was  sick.  He  lay  on  his  skins,  closely 
attended  by  his  wife,  who  sat  beside  him.  I  had 
not  been  long  in  the  tent  before  I  discovered 
that  Luke  had  something  hidden  under  the  edge 
of  his  furs  that  he  did  not  wish  me  to  see.  It 
was  evident  that  this  object  claimed  special  care 
and  devotion  on  the  part  of  both  Luke  and  his 
wife.  After  much  persuasion,  the  Indian  lifted 
the  edge  of  his  robe  and  showed  me  a  wooden 
image  about  twelve  inches  long  wrapped  in  furs 
and  with  three  feathers  attached  to  the  head. 
He  would  on  no  consideration  let  me  take  it  in 
my  hand  or  let  it  out  of  his  possession.  To  test 
his  faith  in  his  idol  I  offered  him  one  thing  after 
another  without  any  effect.  On  another  day, 
after  he  got  well,  I  tried  him  again,  offering  as  a 
test  almost  everything  in  our  trading  outfit,  but 
the  result  was  the  same  as  before.  All  my  offers 
were  firmly  rejected  until  I  was  convinced  that 
under  no  consideration  would  Luke  part  from  his 
image  in  which  he  evidently  had  great  faith. 
The  utmost  that  I  could  accomplish  was  to  induce 
him   to  let  me  photograph  the  image  while  he 

73 


held  it  in  his  hand.  He  was  entirely  unwilling 
to  disclose  any  of  the  secrets  connected  with  it, 
except  that  in  answer  to  my  signs  intimating 
that  it  had  made  him  well,  he  admitted  that  it 
had. 

Our  camp  at  Lake  Minchumina  lay  at  the  end 
of  a  point  of  land  and  commanded  a  good  view 
of  the  lake  in  all  directions.  Our  situation  and 
surroundings  presented  many  attractive  features. 
We  were  in  the  heart  of  what  might  be  called  an 
uninhabited  country,  for  the  only  Indian  village 
in  the  whole  region  was  the  one  I  have  men- 
tioned, on  the  shores  of  the  lake,  and  in  winter, 
when  all  the  inhabitants  of  this  village  had  re- 
turned, its  population  did  not  exceed  twenty- 
five  men,  women  and  children.  In  summer 
even  these  remove  themselves  to  a  distance, 
and  in  July  of  1907,  the  only  inhabitants  of 
the  region  lying  along  our  route  extending  from 
the  Toklat  to  the  Totzona  were  the  two  men, 
three  women  and  two  children  whom  I  have 
mentioned. 

Five  and  six  children  in  a  family  are  not  un- 
common if  Luke  was  to  be  relied  upon,  but  there 
is  a  high  mortality  among  the  very  young  children. 
The  average  number  of  children  born  in  a  family 
is  small,  and  large  families  such  as  one  sees  fre- 

74 


quently  among  white  people  are  unheard  of. 
I  cannot  enter  into  a  discussion  of  the  reasons 
for  small  families.  In  fact,  I  do  not  know  the 
reason.  I  once  met  a  man  who  had  lived  for  a 
time  among  a  savage  tribe  on  an  island  in  the 
South  Seas.  He  had  made  the  observation  that 
the  number  of  children  in  a  family  was  never 
more  than  three.  He  also  made  the  discovery 
that  the  people  could  count  only  to  three,  their 
sense  of  number  not  running  to  higher  values. 
The  traveler,  who  was  of  a  scientific  mind,  found 
in  the  latter  observation  a  complete  explanation 
of  the  former,  because,  as  pointed  out,  no  man 
would  wish  to  have  more  children  than  he  could 
count. 

This  perfectly  good  explanation  does  not  hold 
in  the  case  of  Alaskan  Indians — Luke  and  John 
could  count  to  two  hundred  at  least. 

The  sense  of  solitude  about  Lake  Minchumina 
was  greatly  emphasized  by  the  absence  of  game, 
for  we  saw  not  a  trace  of  any  of  the  larger  ani- 
mals, moose,  caribou,  or  bear  that  make  their 
home  in  the  northern  country. 

The  most  impressive  feature  of  our  situation, 
however,  accentuating  the  silence  and  solitude, 
was  the  great  mountain  mass  that  the  Indians 
call  Denali.      From   this   point  it  bears  directly 

75 


south  according  to  the  compass.*  Looking  directly 
south  across  the  lake  we  commanded  at  all  times 
a  most  spectacular  and  absorbing  view  of  this 
lonely  mountain,  looking  down  upon  the  wilder- 
ness from  its  four  white  miles  of  altitude  and 
dominating  the  northern  world.  In  part  its  sides 
seemed  sheer.  On  its  right  and  left  flanks,  like 
flying  buttresses,  jagged  walls  were  thrust  out. 
Its  face  was  seamed  and  scarred  and  we  could 
hear  even  at  that  distance  the  thunder  of  the 
avalanches.| 

Men  have  always  associated  mountains  with 
their  gods.  When  Zeus  and  his  troupe  performed, 
the  stage  was  set  on  Olympus,  Moses  went  up  into 
Sinai  to  meet  Yaweh.  The  Kikuyu  say  that 
God  lives  in  lonely  grandeur  on  the  top  of  Kenya, 
and  who  shall  say  that  it  was  not  a  similar  feeling 
that  moved  the  Alaskan  Indian  to  call  his  moun- 


*  In  the  view  shown  facing  p.  44  the  mountain  is  seen  from  a 
point  on  the  meridian  of  Denali  where  it  intersects  the  Kantishna 
just  below  the  Fork.  This  point  is  about  fifty  miles  north  of  the 
mountain.    (See  view  facing  pp.  60,  62.) 

f  Mountain  photographs,  especially  when  made  from  a  distance, 
are  never  satisfactory  or  adequate.  In  the  camera,  mountains  lose 
their  magnitude,  depress  their  height  and  change  their  proportions. 
Therefore  in  addition  to  our  photographs  made  with  a  6}4  x  8}4 
camera  and  on  glass  plates,  I  sketched  the  mountain  both  from 
the  Kantishna  where  we  had  the  first  grand  view  of  it  and  from 
the  lake.  Finished  drawings  made  from  these  sketches  are  repro- 
duced here  in  addition  to  the  photograph  to  give  some  faint  idea 
of  its  appearance. 

76 


THE    AUTHOR    ON    THE    TEN     MILE     PORTAGE 


tain  The  High  One  or  The  Most  High?  Alto- 
gether it  was  a  very  wonderful  scene,  and  our 
camp  at  Lake  Minchumina  was  a  camp  of  pure 
enjoyment. 

I  feel  impelled  to  take  this  occasion  to  refer 
again  to  certain  matters  of  geographical  interest. 
I  do  so  with  the  less  hesitation  because  the  trip 
which  I  am  describing  had  no  geographical  object 
in  view.  The  particular  matter  that  I  have  in 
mind  is  the  naming  of  natural  features,  such  as 
mountains  and  rivers  on  this  continent.  I  was 
impressed  during  all  my  intercourse  with  the 
few  Indians  in  Alaska  that  their  geographical 
knowledge  is  very  considerable,  they  travel  ex- 
tensively and  they  have  names  for  every  topo- 
graphical feature  of  the  country.  These  names 
have  always  certain  attributes  to  recommend 
them;  they  have  been  spoken  by  untold  genera- 
tions of  men  and  handed  down  in  the  native 
tongues  of  the  land  from  unknown  antiquity. 
They  are,  therefore,  a  part  of  the  inheritance  of 
the  human  race  and  especially  of  Americans. 
These  place  names  have,  moreover,  in  each 
instance  a  most  appropriate  significance;  they 
carry  with  them  local  associations  of  special 
meaning  and  they  hand  down  long  traditions  of 
man's  relation  with  nature. 

77 


It  has  always  appeared  to  me  that  such  argu- 
ments as  these  should  make  a  powerful  appeal 
to  American  geographers  and  explorers  and  to 
the  national  conscience.  It  is  more  than  a  matter 
of  sentiment,  but  even  if  I  were  appealing  to 
sentiment  alone  I  should  expect  the  ancient 
Indian  name  of  a  place  to  make  a  nobler  appeal 
in  this  particular  connection,  than  the  name  of 
a  contemporary  politician  or  the  name  of  any 
man  of  our  time. 

When  I  returned  from  Alaska  in  1907  I  deliv- 
ered a  series  of  lectures  in  which  I  made  this 
plea,  with  special  reference  to  the  mountain  that 
on  the  later  maps  bears  the  name  McKinley, 
but  which,  as  Chief  Henry  told  me  at  Tanana 
in  1905,  and  as  the  Minkhotana  Indians  told  me 
in  1907,  had  been  known  to  them  and  their 
ancestors  as  Denali,  "The  High  One/'  Would 
not  eveiyone  interested  in  history  and  tradition 
like  to  see  that  name  preserved? 

The  view  southward  from  our  camp  on  Lake 
Minchumina  embraced  another  mountain  of  the 
Alaskan  range  a  little  to  the  west  of  Denali  but 
not  so  high.  For  this  mountain  the  Indians  had 
two  names.  One  of  these  names  is  Menlale  and 
the  other  is  Sultana.  Both  these  names  are 
Indian  words.     The  first  means  "Denali's  wife" 

78 


and  the  other  means  "The  Woman."  Yet  on  the 
United  States  Government  map  this  smaller 
mountain  enjoys  the  name  Mt.  Foraker.* 

Speaking  of  names  reminds  me  that  wherever 
we  passed  on  our  route  a  river  that  was  not  indi- 
cated or  not  named  on  any  published  map,  we 
endeavored  to  learn  and  record  the  Indian  name. 
In  this  we  had  no  difficulty,  and  in  my  notes 
made  in  1907  I  find  only  two  important  streams 
which  we  passed  on  our  route  of  which  I  failed 
to  record  the  name.  One  of  these  is  the  South 
Fork  of  the  Kantishna,  which  I  find  on  the  latest 
government  maps  in  this  year,  191 7,  is  called 
McKinley  River.  The  other  is  the  Bear  Paw. 
I  know,  however,  that  the  Indians  had  names 
for  these  streams  as  for  all  the  others. 

The  Indians  of  the  lake  country  knew  every 
stream  flowing  into  the  Kantishna  and  into  the 
lake  itself  as  well  as  those  flowing  into  the  North 


*  Four  years  after  our  journey  Archdeacon  Stuck  of  Alaska  in 
a  winter  journey  from  the  Tanana  to  the  Innoko  to  visit  the  new 
mining  camp,  passed  Lake  Minchumina  and  got  the  same  view 
of  the  mountain  that  I  have  described  in  this  chapter.  See  TEN 
THOUSAND  MILES  WITH  A  DOG  SLED  by  Hudson  Stuck, 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  1914,  p.  305.  Archdeacon  Stuck  later 
(in  1913)  climbed  the  mountain  itself,  and  has  given  an  eloquent 
account  of  his  achievement,  (THE  ASCENT  OF  DENALI,  by 
Hudson  Stuck,  Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  1914).  I  am  in  entire 
accord  with  the  views  expressed  by  the  author  in  his  preface  to 
that  book. 

79 


Fork  of  the  Kuskokwim,  which  they  call  Tichin- 
inik.  The  lowest  branch  of  the  Kantishna  is 
called  the  Toklat.  The  stream  now  marked  on 
the  government  map  published  in  1916  as  "Birch 
Creek"  was  known  to  the  Indians  as  Nutchitali- 
chaket.  The  one  that  flows  into  the  lake  at  the 
outlet  from  the  direction  of  Mount  Denali  and 
which  does  not  appear  on  any  map  except  our  own, 
they  called  Kwalana,  and  the  stream  that  enters 
the  lake  at  its  upper  end  they  called  Tonzolana. 

At  the  same  time  that  I  offer  the  foregoing 
frank  criticism  of  geographers  and  map  makers 
in  the  matter  of  names,  I  wish  to  record  the 
grateful  feelings  which  I  am  sure  everyone  will 
share  with  me  that  the  same  maps  that  give  the 
names  of  McKinley  and  Foraker  preserve  such 
Indian  names  as  Minchumina,  Kantishna  and 
Tanana.  If  this  happy  method  could  be  more 
generally  followed  in  making  the  maps  of  country 
newly  explored  I  believe  that  no  loss  would  result 
and  something  would  be  gained,  something  for 
which  posterity  might  perhaps  be  grateful. 

At  the  end  of  six  days  in  camp  we  felt  com- 
pletely rested.  In  the  meantime,  we  had  turned 
over  in  our  minds  our  next  course  of  action  and 
exchanged  ideas  on  this  important  subject.  The 
thought  had  gradually  come  to  each  of  us  inde- 
80 


pendently  that  this  would  be  a  capital  place  to 
spend  the  remainder  of  the  summer  and  the 
following  winter.  When  the  idea  was  first  men- 
tioned we  found  that  the  same  thought  had  been 
taking  form  in  both  our  minds  since  the  day  we 
arrived  at  the  lake.  Back  of  my  own  thought 
was  the  fascination  of  the  wilderness  and  the 
desire  for  further  adventure,  and  coupled  with 
this  was  a  very  natural  desire  to  pursue  further 
a  knowledge  of  the  Indians  who  live  on  Lake 
Minchumina  and  who  would  not  return  from  the 
hunting  grounds  till  winter.  By  spending  the 
winter  with  them  I  could  undoubtedly  procure 
a  collection  that  would  admirably  illustrate  the 
arts  and  industries  and  the  various  activities  of 
the  original  inhabitants  of  this  part  of  the  con- 
tinent, and  I  could  learn  a  great  deal  of  their 
language,  their  habits  of  thought  and  their  gen- 
eral conduct  of  life.  To  make  such  a  study 
would  require  spending  the  winter'  with  the 
Indians,  when  men  who  live  by  their  hunting 
have  time  to  talk  and  when  their  legends  and 
myths  come  to  them  and  may  be  told. 

We  got  so  far  in  this  plan  that  we  thought  we 
would  spend  the  rest  of  the  summer  and  as  much 
more  time  as  necessary  in  climbing  Mount  Denali, 
which  at  that  time  had  never  been  climbed. 


Then,  unfortunately,  came  reflection  upon  my 
part.  I  remembered  that  I  was  expected  at  my 
post  of  duty  in  November,  and  it  was  borne  in 
upon  my  mind  that  though  I  might  not  need 
civilization  just  then,  it  was  clear  that  civiliza- 
tion had  certain  claims  upon  me.  Moreover,  it 
would  be  impossible  to  send  word  out  to  explain 
our  non-appearance,  and  this  would  certainly 
cause  uneasiness  among  our  friends.  We  finally 
decided  to  proceed  upon  our  journey. 

With  many  regrets,  we  broke  our  camp  on  Lake 
Minchumina,  where  we  had  spent  six  happy  days, 
growing  lazy  and  faring  sumptuously  on  game 
and  fish.  And  this  reminds  me  that  in  the  clear 
water  of  the  lake,  unlike  the  rivers  on  which  we 
had  spent  so  much  time,  we  caught  fish  in  abun- 
dance, white  fish  and  grayling,  both  of  excellent 
flavor.  It  was  only  necessary  to  throw  out  a 
hook  with  spoon  bait  in  front  of  the  camp  and 
we  had  in  a  few  seconds  one  or  the  other  of 
these  good  sized  fish. 


82 


CHAPTER  V 

NlGGERHEAD    AND    MUSKEG 

On  August  the  first  we  started  for  the  head 
of  the  portage,  having  bargained  with  the  Indians 
to  guide  and  help  us  transport  our  canoe  and 
outfit  across.  In  their  two  birchbark  canoes 
they  led  the  way  up  the  lake  and  we  all  landed 
on  a  rather  steep  bank  where  we  could  see  no 
sign  of  a  trail.  The  ground  was  fairly  open 
though  very  rough  and  encumbered  with  a  low 
scrub  growth  of  spruce.  We  mustered,  besides 
our  two  selves,  the  two  Indians  and  seven  dogs. 
When  the  animals  discovered  that  they  were  to 
be  put  to  work  carrying  packs,  their  efforts  to 
escape  and  their  loud  protests  after  they  were 
caught,  made  one  of  the  most  lively  sights  I  have 
ever  seen.  When  the  packs  had  been  once  ad- 
justed to  their  backs  Indian  fashion,  however, 
they  trotted  off  quietly  enough  after  their  masters, 
but  were  always  coming  to  grief  by  getting  tangled 
on  bushes  and  snags  and  making  their  trouble 
known  in  a  most  vociferous  way  till  they  were 
set  free. 

After  dividing  our  outfit,  each  one  of  us  being 

83 


provided  with  a  pack,  we  found  that  we  could 
carry  everything  at  once  except  one  pack  and 
the  canoe.  These  we  left  for  a  back  trip.  In 
this  way  we  walked  two  miles  and  came  to  a 
small  lake  of  which  the  Indian  name  is  Chilko- 
gamina,  perhaps  a  half  mile  across,  with  a  small 
stream  running  into  it.  Here  we  made  camp  and 
prepared  to  pass  the  night.  While  my  brother 
superintended  these  arrangements,  I  returned 
with  one  of  the  Indians  to  fetch  the  one  pack 
we  had  left,  for  I  did  not  entirely  trust  the  native 
alone.  When  we  had  fed  ourselves  and  the  dogs 
we  turned  in,  feeling  that  we  were  fortunate  in 
having  the  two  Indians  to  help  us  over  a  portage 
which  proved  rough  and  hard  going  at  best,  and 
which  in  places  was  so  boggy  that  with  our  heavy 
packs  we  sank  nearly  to  our  knees  in  a  kind  of 
slushy  mixture  of  moss,  roots  of  vegetation  and 
icy  water.  To  be  more  brief  as  well  as  technically 
accurate,  we  found  that  the  trail  consisted  of 
niggerhead  and  muskeg. 

On  low  flat  ground  such  as  occurred  at  inter- 
vals on  this  portage  the  moss  often  takes  the 
form  of  rounded  tufts  which  soak  up  and  hold 
water  exactly  like  so  many  sponges  and  form  an 
irregular  surface  which  is  so  soft  and  saturated 
with  water  that  one  sinks  deep  at  every  step  in 
84 


the  oozy  mass.  This  is  what  is  called  nigger- 
head  and  muskeg  in  the  language  of  the  North. 
Muskeg  is  the  Ojibway  Indian  word  for  a  swamp. 
The  other  word  explains  itself. 

When  we  woke  in  the  morning  we  found  that 
the  Indians  had  decamped.  There  was  nothing 
to  be  done,  so  we  consigned  Luke  and  John  to 
a  place  that  they  must  have  heard  of  at  the 
Mission  (but  which  does  not  appear  on  any  map 
of  Alaska),  and  prepared  to  do  all  the  portaging 
ourselves. 

While  we  were  eating  our  breakfast,  a  disturb- 
ing thought  assailed  us.  Had  those  rascally 
apostles  stolen  our  canoe?  We  washed  up  the 
dishes,  fastened  up  the  tent  door  and  walked 
back  the  two  miles  to  the  landing  place.  There 
was  the  canoe  exactly  as  we  had  left  it  and  no 
sign  of  the  Indians.  Turning  the  canoe  bottom 
up  and  crouching  under  the  thwarts,  we  had  no 
great  difficulty  in  getting  into  an  upright  posi- 
tion, each  man  with  a  thwart  across  his  shoulders. 
In  this  way  we  carried  our  canoe  over  the  soft, 
wet  ground  (I  mean  the  niggerhead  and  muskeg) 
to  the  pond  where  we  had  made  our  last  camp. 
We  found  that  we  had  to  put  down  our  load  and 
rest  about  every  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  we  also 
found  that  the  thwarts  that  supported  the  load 

85 


on  our  shoulders  cut  unmercifully  into  our  necks. 
I  have  already  said  that  the  weight  of  the  canoe 
when  dry,  was  180  pounds.  At  this  time  it 
must  have  been  a  good  deal  heavier. 

To  make  this  weight  ride  easier  we  afterwards 
cut  out  a  semi-circular  piece  from  the  center  of 
each  of  the  two  end  thwarts  so  that  they  resem- 
bled yokes  to  fit  our  necks.  Taking  two  heavy 
woolen  undershirts,  we  cut  them  up  and  rolled 
them  into  two  cushions  which  we  fastened  round 
the  edges  of  the  yoke  shaped  thwarts  where  they 
rested  on  our  shoulders.  With  this  device  we 
found  that  we  could  support  the  weight  of  the 
canoe  with  entire  comfort. 

We  still  had  the  small  lake  to  cross  and  we 
had  to  find  the  trail,  if  there  was  one,  on  the 
opposite  side.  Launching  the  canoe  in  the  tiny 
creek  and  taking  two  light  packs,  we  were  soon 
across  the  pond,  which  was  strewn  with  a  kind 
of  yellow  pond  lily.  Following  the  margin  we 
searched  for  signs  that  would  indicate  a  trail 
and  soon  found  a  place  where  the  rank  grass 
growing  on  the  bank  had  been  trodden  down 
and  a  few  steps  on  shore  brought  us  into  a  dis- 
tinct Indian  trail.  We  followed  this  for  four 
miles,  carrying  the  two  light  packs,  and  satisfied 
ourselves  that  it  was  the  trail  across  the  divide 
86 


and  that  it  led  directly  to  the  source  of  the 
Kuskokwim. 

We  had  as  yet  seen  no  signs  of  any  white  men 
having  passed  that  way  and  we  had  almost  con- 
cluded that  the  Indians  had  invented  the  story 
of  the  two  white  men  having  preceded  us  ten 
days  before  our  arrival.  Indeed,  their  story 
seemed  altogether  improbable.  We  remembered 
that  as  we  ascended  the  Kantishna  we  had  seen 
no  trace  of  white  men  having  at  any  time  pre- 
ceded us  above  the  deserted  town  where  we  had 
spent  three  days.  We  had  seen  no  camping 
place  and  no  signs  except  the  signs  that  Indians 
leave  to  be  read  as  messages  by  other  Indians 
who  may  pass,  such  as  a  split  twig  or  an  arrow 
fastened  on  a  tree.  The  remains  of  a  white  man's 
fire  can  always  be  recognized,  and  on  the  upper 
Kantishna  we  had  seen  none. 

However,  we  had  not  gone  far  on  the  trail 
across  the  divide  before  we  began  to  see  unmis- 
takable signs  that  white  men  had  preceded  us 
there.  There  were  marks  on  the  ground  where 
some  heavy  object  had  been  dragged  along  and 
we  saw  an  improvised  roller  that  had  been  left 
behind.  These  indications  showed  that  men  had 
dragged  a  poling  boat  over  that  ground  not  very- 
long  before. 

87 


Leaving  our  packs  and  returning  to  camp,  we 
soon  brought  the  outfit  across  the  pond  and 
pitched  our  tent  again  at  the  end  of  the  trail. 
Then  we  made  four  packs  consisting  of  every- 
thing except  the  tent,  sleeping  outfit,  cooking  out- 
fit and  some  provisions  for  supper  and  breakfast. 
Each  of  these  four  packs  weighed  about  95  pounds, 
and  we  carried  them  that  evening  a  distance  of 
one  and  a  half  miles  to  a  ridge  of  higher  and 
dryer  ground,  making  two  trips  and  returning 
to  camp  to  sleep. 

Next  morning,  August  4th,  we  made  up  the 
tent,  blankets,  grub  box,  tarpaulin  and  cooking 
outfit  into  two  packs  weighing  95  pounds  each 
and  packed  these  forward  four  miles  to  a  place 
where  we  had  left  the  first  two  packs  on  the 
previous  day.  This  first  cache  was  situated  on 
a  rising  ground  or  low  hill.  The  first  mile  was 
soft  ground  consisting  of  niggerhead  and  muskeg. 
Then  came  a  low  hill,  then  some  soft  ground  and 
water,  then  another  low  hill  followed  by  soft 
ground  and  lastly  the  low  hill  on  the  near  side  of 
which  we  made  our  first  cache.  This  meant 
making  a  back  trip  of  four  miles  and  carrying  the 
canoe  that  distance  and  making  two  back  trips 
of  two  and  a  half  miles  for  the  four  packs  that 
we  had  carried  a  short  distance  on  the  third. 


To  get  water  for  drinking  and  cooking  pur- 
poses during  these  days  on  the  portage  we  dug 
water  holes  beside  the  trail  and  cleared  out  old 
ones  that  the  Indians  had  used,  and  these  holes 
soon  became  filled  with  water,  for  the  earth  is 
everywhere  saturated.  A  foot  below  the  sur- 
face the  ground  is  frozen  solid  and  this  frozen 
condition  extends  to  great  depths,  a  hundred 
feet  or  more;  consequently  the  rain  water  is  not 
absorbed,  but  lies  on  the  surface  where  it  is 
soaked  up  and  held  by  the  thick  moss  and  matted 
roots  of  vegetation,  exactly  as  a  sponge  holds  water. 

There  was  a  feature  of  the  vegetation  on  the 
low  hills  that  deserves  special  mention  for  the 
delight  we  had  in  it.  Wide  stretches  were  cov- 
ered with  a  luxuriant  growth  of  blueberry  bushes, 
and  as  it  was  the  season  when  they  were  ripe 
and  our  appetites  for  fresh  fruit  had  become 
very  keen,  we  stopped  on  each  back  trip  to  eat 
blueberries.  We  found  them  delicious  and  cer- 
tainly never  enjoyed  fruit  so  much.  We  gathered 
a  pailful  to  add  to  our  stock  of  provisions,  a  very 
positive  improvement  in  our  bill  of  fare  which 
was  becoming  more  and  more  luxurious,  with  fat 
canvasbacks,  geese,  white  fish,  pickerel  and  now 
fresh  fruit.  This  was  a  great  improvement  on 
the  boiled  beans  and  salt  bacon  with  which  we 

89 


served  ourselves  at  every  meal  for  twenty  days 
of  the  hardest  work  of  the  entire  trip.  Let  me 
say,  however,  that  we  enjoyed  the  beans  and 
bacon. 

At  the  end  of  August  5th,  after  the  day's  work 
that  I  have  described,  we  had  our  camp  pitched 
a  distance  of  four  miles  from  the  pond  and  six 
and  a  half  miles  from  the  lake  and  everything 
had  been  carried  to  that  point  and  made  snug. 
How  much  of  the  portage  remained  we  were  still 
in  doubt,  but  we  knew  that  it  must  have  an  end, 
and  we  knew  that  we  could  keep  on  carrying  till 
we  had  reached  the  end  of  it. 

To  satisfy  our  curiosity,  however,  we  set  out 
on  the  morning  of  the  sixth  to  find  how  far  we 
were  from  the  Kuskokwim.  We  had  gone  about 
two  miles  when  we  came  suddenly  upon  a  big 
poling  boat  lying  in  the  trail,  an  outfit  piled 
beside  it,  a  tent  and  two  white  men  getting  their 
breakfast.  We  had  no  occasion  to  be  surprised, 
because,  as  I  have  explained,  we  had  found  their 
trail,  but  if  I  said  the  two  men  were  surprised, 
I  would  be  using  very  mild  language. 

Absolutely  secure  in  their  feeling  that  there 
were  no  human  beings  about  except  themselves, 
and  that  they  were  alone  and  safe  from  intrusion, 
they,  like  ourselves,  were  keeping  no  lookout  and 

90 


we  came  quite  close  before  we  were  observed. 
One  was  about  to  enter  the  tent  and  had  his 
back  towards  us;  the  other  was  standing  over 
the  fire  with  a  frying  pan,  when  a  twig  snapped 
under  our  feet.  Looking  up  from  his  anticipa- 
tion of  fried  bacon,  and  seeing  us  fifteen  yards 
away,  his  thoughts  were  so  violently  diverted 
that  he  dropped  his  frying  pan,  made  a  dive 
towards  the  tent  door,  where  he  butted  with  a 
shout  into  his  companion's  back.  The  latter 
inquired  in  language  of  great  vigor  what  he 
thought  he  was  doing,  but  in  the  middle  of  a 
well  rounded  period,  he  caught  sight  of  us  and 
the  sentence  was  never  finished;  the  two  then 
suddenly  bolted  together  into  the  tent,  where 
they  remained  looking  us  over  through  the  nar- 
row door.  In  this  position  we  presently  engaged 
them  in  conversation  and  in  a  few  minutes  they 
had  recovered  from  the  shock  of  their  surprise. 

They  had  reconnoitred  the  whole  portage  and 
told  us  it  was  only  two  miles  more  to  the  Kusko- 
kwim.  These  two  men  were  on  their  way  to 
what  was  known  as  the  South  Fork  on  a  pros- 
pecting trip  and  were  prepared  to  spend  two 
years  up  there  in  the  wilds  shut  off  completely 
from  human  communication  of  any  kind.  They 
were   typical   of  the   prospector  breed   to  whom 

9i 


the  "great  strike"  is  always  ahead  and  hidden 
somewhere  in  the  unknown. 

On  the  same  day  we  packed  all  but  the  tent, 
cooking  outfit  and  sleeping  outfit  and  canoe  down 
to  the  banks  of  the  Kuskokwim  which,  at  this 
point  near  its  source,  is  a  small  stream  of  clear 
water  with  high  and  steep  banks. 

On  the  seventh  of  August  we  carried  the  canoe 
over  the  last  four  miles  of  the  portage,  returned 
and  packed  the  tent  and  sleeping  outfit  and 
cooking  outfit  and  made  camp  beside  the  Kus- 
kokwim. On  each  trip  during  these  two  days 
we  passed  and  repassed  the  two  prospectors 
laboriously  hauling  their  heavy  boat  on  rollers 
over  the  rough  ground.  On  several  points  they 
showed  a  great  deal  of  interest:  they  were  curious 
and  rather  incredulous  about  the  canoe;  for,  after 
lifting  it  some  half  dozen  times,  they  estimated 
that  it  weighed  well  over  two  hundred  pounds, 
perhaps  as  much  as  two  hundred  and  fifty;  they 
wondered  that  anyone  should  have  undertaken 
the  trip  at  all  in  a  canoe,  for  the  poling  boat 
was  accepted  as  the  one  thing  fit  for  the  condi- 
tions of  travel  presented  by  Alaskan  rivers.  They 
seemed  all  at  once,  and  for  the  first  time,  to  doubt 
the  truth  and  wisdom  of  that  idea  and  paid  us 
the  compliment  of  saying  as  we  left  them  behind 
92 


on  the  trail  that  we  had  taught  them  something 
new. 

The  portage  between  Lake  Minchumina  and 
the  head  of  the  Kuskokwim  is  about  ten  and  a 
half  miles  according  to  our  careful  calculation, 
for  we  had  no  means  of  measuring  distance.  We 
were  altogether  seven  days  on  this  portage  from 
August  first  to  August  seventh,  inclusive.  We 
made  our  outfit  into  seven  packs  averaging  ninety- 
five  pounds  each.  As  to  the  weight  of  the  canoe, 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  men  were  right 
and  that  at  the  time  its  weight  was  scarcely  less 
than  200  pounds.  I  say  this  because  when 
weighed  it  was  perfectly  dry,  whereas  at  the 
portage  its  woodwork  had  been  absorbing  water 
since  we  started,  and  in  its  saturated  condition 
must  have  been  much  heavier  than  its  dry  weight 
of  180  pounds.  In  carrying  the  canoe  we  set  it 
down  and  rested  about  every  quarter  of  a  mile. 
In  picking  it  up  we  turned  it  on  its  edge,  crouched 
on  our  knees  with  our  shoulders  to  the  thwarts, 
let  it  tip  towards  us  as  far  as  possible  until  at 
a  signal  we  were  able  to  rise  together  and  to 
balance  it  on  our  shoulders  at  the  same  time. 

At  8.30  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  8th  we 
had  the  canoe  loaded  and  were  ready  to  start  down 
the   Kuskokwim,   with   no   information   about   it 

93 


except  that  there  was  a  branch  known  to  pros- 
pectors as  the  South  Fork  and  called  by  the 
Indians  the  Istna  coming  in  from  the  south,  a 
few  days'  journey  down.  It  was  for  this  river 
that  the  two  prospectors  of  the  portage  were 
heading. 


94 


CHAPTER  VI 
On  the  Upper  Kuskokwim 

We  had  no  sooner  started  down  the  Kuskokwim 
than  the  feeling  was  borne  in  upon  us  that  we 
were  in  virgin  territory,  where  man,  at  least 
civilized  man,  and  nature  were  still  strangers. 
Certainly  man  was  an  unfamiliar  object  to  the 
birds  and  beasts,  and  especially  to  the  game 
which  had  not  yet  learned  that  his  presence 
was  a  signal  for  alarm.  Ducks  and  geese  appeared 
in  great  numbers  and  even  after  we  had  shot, 
appeared  to  remain  so  tame  that  we  could 
approach  to  within  a  few  yards  of  them.  To 
anyone  who  knows  the  habits  of  the  wild  goose, 
this  must  seem  odd.  Now  these  geese  (the 
old  birds)  had  migrated  from  regions  further 
south,  where  presumably  they  were  acquainted 
with  men  and  with  hunters  and  sportsmen. 
They  had  gone  to  the  far  North  to  breed.  The 
season's  young  were  now  full  grown,  fat  and  in 
perfect  condition.  It  would  seem  natural  to 
suppose  that  the  experience  of  the  old  birds  in 
inhabited  countries  would  serve  them  also  in 
uninhabited  territory  and  that  consequently  they 

95 


would  take  alarm  at  the  sight  of  men.  It  seems, 
however,  that  the  instinctive  fear  of  man  and 
the  gun,  a  habit  acquired  under  one  set  of  condi- 
tions, is  in  abeyance  where  the  same  conditions 
do  not  prevail  and  that  the  same  lessons  have  to 
be  learned  again. 

It  was  not  many  hours  after  we  had  started 
that  we  had  shot  five  geese  from  the  canoe. 
We  could  easily  have  shot  more  if  we  had  cared 
to  do  so. 

At  noon  we  lunched  on  a  sand-bar  in  a  shower 
of  rain.  We  were  again  in  the  spruce  timber. 
In  the  afternoon  a  rainstorm  came  up  with  very 
heavy  black  clouds  and  the  downpour  was  so 
great  that  it  threatened  to  fill  the  canoe  and  we 
had  to  bail  frequently.  During  the  progress 
of  the  storm  we  heard  the  roar  of  rapids  ahead 
and  rounding  a  bend  we  came  in  sight  of  the 
broken  water,  a  longish  rapid  without  any  apparent 
obstruction  to  our  passage,  though  we  could  not 
tell  how  near  the  rocks  might  be  to  the  broken 
surface.  We  headed  into  midstream  and  as  we 
struck  the  rapids  there  occurred  a  very  bewildering 
and  for  the  moment  a  startling  thing.  As  we 
shot  down  with  the  noise  and  rush  of  the  water 
about  us,  there  broke  in  a  deep  rumble  accom- 
panied by  a  sharp  crackling.      All  these  noises, 

96 


mingling  together,  produced  a  most  indescribable 
effect  as  in  the  storm  and  confusion  we  shot  down 
into  the  smooth  water  below.  It  was  only  after 
we  were  in  comparative  quiet  that  we  realized 
that  the  loud  rumbling  and  crashing  noise  was 
a  peal  of  thunder.  We  had  not  heard  thunder 
since  the  26th  of  July  and  we  did  not  hear  it 
again  during  that  summer. 

Two  more  rapids  were  passed  and  the  rain 
still  continued  in  torrents.  Suddenly  to  our 
surprise  we  saw  ahead  a  log  cabin  on  a  high  bank 
and,  heading  towards  it,  we  found  it  empty  and 
deserted,  but  quite  dry  and  snug.  Soon  we  were 
installed  under  this  accidental  roof  and  very 
grateful  for  its  unexpected  shelter. 

The  interior  of  the  cabin  was  about  ten  feet 
by  twelve.  It  was  new,  that  is  to  say,  it  had 
been  built  the  previous  summer  and  had  been 
occupied  during  the  winter  by  a  trapper,  who 
had  evidently  made  his  way  across  from  the 
Yukon  to  try  his  luck  in  the  new  hunting  ground. 
He  had  evidently  set  his  line  of  traps,  tended 
them  all  winter,  with  what  luck  I  cannot  say, 
and  in  the  spring  had  gone  out  the  way  he  came, 
packing  his  furs  along  with  him. 

Having  taken  possession,  we  set  about  to  make 
ourselves    comfortable    and    to    that    end    made 

97 


use  of  the  resources  of  the  place.  These  resources 
consisted  of  an  empty  Standard  Oil  can  and 
about  a  dozen  empty  butter  tins.  Everyone 
knows  what  a  Standard  Oil  can  looks  like.  It 
is  a  familiar  sight  in  every  part  of  the  world.  The 
traveler  cannot  escape  it.  He  will  find  it  in  the 
Amazon  Jungle,  on  the  Andean  heights,  in  the 
heart  of  Africa,  in  the  Soudan,  on  the  Himalayan 
slopes,  the  Russian  steppes.  He  will  find  it 
among  people  of  every  complexion,  in  every 
degree  of  civilization,  doing  duty  in  many  differ- 
ent ways.  I  have  myself  seen  it  serving  as  a 
water  bucket,  a  milk  can,  a  flower  pot,  a  food 
dish,  a  torn  torn,  a  liquid  measure,  a  shopping 
bag,  a  trunk,  a  mouse  trap,  a  slop  jar,  a  peddler's 
box,  a  medicine  man's  charm  and  a  variety  of 
uses  besides.  It  seemed,  therefore,  quite  natural 
that  we  should  find  it  in  the  uninhabited  forests 
of  Alaska  and  that  we  should  put  it  to  a  new 
use,  for  which  I  am  now  prepared  to  recommend  it. 
The  builder  of  the  cabin  undoubtedly  had 
brought  with  him  the  portable  article  known  as 
the  Yukon  stove  and  had  taken  it  away  with 
him.  In  one  corner  of  the  roof  there  was  a  small 
hole  where  he  had  placed  his  stove  pipe.  In  the 
course  of  making  ourselves  at  home  in  our  dripping 
clothes,  I  called  Mac's  attention  to  this  hole 
98 


in  the  roof  and  remarked  that,  having  the  hole, 
all  we  needed  was  a  stove  and  stove  pipe.  In  a 
little  while  we  had  these  also,  for  we  manufactured 
the  one  out  of  the  Standard  Oil  can  and  the  other 
out  of  the  butter  tins. 

Next  day  the  rain  still  fell  steadily  but  was 
much  less  heavy.  We  decided  to  remain  at  home. 
We  made  a  feast.  Outside  the  door  of  the  cabin 
we  set  up  a  piece  of  canvas  to  shed  the  rain  and 
this  was  our  kitchen.  A  proper  camp  fire  was 
carefully  arranged  with  ample  back  logs  to  hold 
and  reflect  the  heat.  A  fine  fat  goose  was  plucked 
and  dressed  and  stuffed  and  trussed  and  it  was 
as  neat  a  job  as  ever  was  performed.  That 
goose  was  cooked  on  a  spit  turned  in  front  of  the 
fire  and  basted  in  the  drippings  of  its  own  fat. 
When  it  was  done  it  was  fit  for  any  table  what- 
ever. Blueberries  stewed  in  sugar  was  our 
dessert;  we  had  plenty  of  coffee  and  excellent 
tobacco.  I  have  never  enjoyed  a  banquet  so 
much  in  my  life. 

All  the  time  we  kept  the  stove  red  hot  to  dry 
out  the  cabin  and  drive  away  the  damp  chill 
that  was  already  beginning  to  make  itself  felt 
after  the  heavy  rain. 

In  fact,  this  thunderstorm  marked  the  turn 
of  the  season  and  from  that  day  onwards  it  con- 

99 


tinued  to  grow  cooler.  The  vegetation  on  the 
banks  already  exhibited  the  bright  autumn  tints, 
brilliant  reds  and  yellows  predominating.  The 
mosquitoes  disappeared  and  though  for  a  short 
time  they  were  replaced  by  a  very  annoying 
black  gnat,  it  was  a  great  relief. 

On  the  ioth  of  August,  the  weather  being  fine, 
we  left  our  temporary  lodgings  in  the  log  cabin 
and  on  that  day  we  passed  four  more  rapids. 

On  the  day  following  we  descended  a  very 
beautiful  stretch  of  river;  the  water  was  slack 
and  dark  and  placid  and  reflected  the  sloping 
banks  and  the  thick  growth  of  spruce  timber 
that  made  an  uninterrupted  fringe  on  either  side. 
The  timber  gradually  grew  larger  as  we  descended 
and  many  of  the  tall  trees  were  two  feet  in  diameter 
near  the  base.  The  Kuskokwim  runs  a  very 
tortuous  course,  turning  about  and  winding  and 
forming  many  wide  loops  and  bends. 

In  the  afternoon  we  came  to  the  Indian  en- 
campment for  which  we  had  been  on  the  lookout. 
It  was  on  the  left  bank  and  consisted  of  three 
fairly  large  brush  shelters,  a  summer  encampment. 

The  Indians  at  Minchumina  had  prepared  us 
not  to  expect  to  find  many  people  at  this  camp 
until  the  hunting  season  was  over.  We  found 
just  one  very  ancient  Indian.  He  was  the  only 
ioo 


IX    THE    DESERTED    CABIN    ON    THE    TICHININIK 


Indian  I  ever  saw  anywhere  who  exhibited  sur- 
prise and  excitement,  as  he  did  at  our  appearance. 
He  had  evidently  never  seen  white  men  before 
and  was  clearly  afraid.  We  could  make  little 
of  him  and  after  making  him  some  slight  presents 
we  continued  our  journey. 

Some  time  in  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day 
after  leaving  the  old  Indian  we  caught  a  regular 
succession  of  sharp  sounds,  like  the  rattle  of  oars 
in  the  rowlocks.  Something  and  probably  some- 
body was  approaching  round  the  bend.  Then 
we  heard  voices  quite  near  and  distinct  and  in  a 
moment  more  we  came  upon  two  white  men  in 
two  boats.  With  their  backs  to  us  as  they  worked 
their  oars,  they  did  not  see  us  till  we  glided  noise- 
lessly to  within  ten  yards  of  them  and  spoke. 
Both  were  trappers  and  each  was  in  a  boat  that 
he  had  built  himself.  They  had  come  in  different 
directions  out  of  the  wilderness  and  had  met 
accidentally  on  the  Kuskokwim  two  days  before. 
One  had  just  come  down  the  South  Fork,  where 
he  had  spent  three  years  absolutely  alone.  Dur- 
ing that  time  he  had  not  seen  a  human  being, 
Indian  or  white  man.  The  other  had  spent 
the  winter  alone  trapping  on  the  Tacotna,  but 
in  the  spring  some  prospectors  had  appeared 
and  the  region  no  longer  suited  him.     He  resolved 

IOI 


to  move  to  where  the  solitudes  were  still  secure 
from  the  unwelcome  intrusion  of  his  fellow  men. 
Propelling  his  boat  day  after  day  up  the  Kuskok- 
wim,  he  met  the  man  from  the  South  Fork  coming 
down.  The  latter  was  oblivious  of  the  presence 
of  white  men  on  the  lower  Kuskokwim  and 
when  he  learned  from  the  man  from  the  Tacotna 
that  there  were  prospectors  in  the  country  he 
decided  that  he  was  going  in  the  wrong  direction. 
In  a  few  minutes  the  two  men  had  entered  into 
a  partnership  and  decided  to  ascend  to  the  head 
of  the  Kuskokwim,  build  a  cabin  and  try  their 
luck  trapping  together  during  the  following  winter. 
We  drew  our  canoe  alongside  the  two  boats 
and  there  we  sat  talking  for  three-quarters  of  an 
hour.  They  asked  us  what  month  it  was  and 
what  day  of  the  month.  They  did  not  ask  us 
the  day  of  the  week.  They  were  particularly 
anxious  to  know  what  the  upper  river  and  the 
country  about  it  were  like  and  inquired  in  what 
direction  we  had  come.  What  we  told  them 
interested  them  very  much.  Their  own  stories 
were  told  very  simply  and  laconically.  They 
never  asked  us  for  news  of  the  outside  world. 
The  subject  was  never  mentioned  once  and  they 
gave  us  no  message  for  friends  or  kindred.  We 
gave    them    some    tobacco   and   flour,    they   gave 

I02 


us  some  fresh  fish  and  we  parted.  Like  almost 
all  the  men  one  meets  alone  in  the  wilds  of  the 
North,  they  were  simple,  well  spoken,  quiet 
mannered  and  kindly  men.  I  cannot  help  wonder- 
ing what  luck  they  had  and  what  befell  them 
afterwards.  It  is  not  likely  that  either  of  them 
will  ever  read  these  lines  and  yet  in  a  world  like 
this,  such  a  thing  is  not  impossible.  We  never 
knew  their  names,  for  we  did  not  inquire  and 
they  did  not  ask  ours.  It  did  not  occur  to  any 
of  us,  for  names  meant  nothing  in  such  circum- 
stances. 

Half  an  hour  after  leaving  the  two  trappers 
we  came  to  a  large  stream  which  comes  in  on 
the  left  and  brings  a  great  deal  of  silt  and  has  a 
swift  current.  This  is  the  stream  which  the 
Indians  call  Totzona,  and  which  I  first  heard 
of  from  Chief  Henry  at  Tanana  in  1905. 

The  days  were  now  growing  rapidly  shorter 
and  the  nights  longer  and  darker.  The  weather 
became  clear  and  cold.  When  we  awoke  each 
morning  we  found  a  beautiful  hoar  frost  over 
everything.  Turning  out  became  a  brisk  exercise 
in  the  clear,  crisp  air.  Mosquitoes  and  black 
flies  had  all  gone  and  there  was  nothing  to  mar 
our  comfort. 

One  day  we  had  a  curious  experience  with  a 

103 


mirage.  Rounding  a  bend  we  saw,  several  miles 
ahead,  a  large  city  on  the  left  bank.  It  had 
many  houses  and  tall  buildings  and  cathedral 
spires.  Even  more  astonishing,  two  large  steamers, 
evidently  men-of-war  (for  their  hulls  were  black), 
lay  in  mid-stream.  Now  we  knew  very  well 
that  there  could  be  no  such  city  on  the  Kuskokwim 
and  we  knew  that  no  man-of-war  had  entered 
that  river.  Yet  there  was  the  city  and  there 
were  the  men-of-war  and  we  had  them  before  us 
long  enough  to  observe  them  well  before  they 
seemed  to  lose  their  substantial  shape  and  then 
suddenly  we  saw  nothing  but  a  high  bank  with 
a  solitary  hut  on  it  and  a  line  of  dead  timber 
extending  along  the  bluff.  In  mid-stream  were 
two  Indians  in  their  birchbark  canoes,  paddling 
leisurely  along.  These  were  the  elements  out 
of  which  the  mirage  had  been  in  some  way  con- 
structed. The  Indians  told  us  that  their  village 
was  a  short  distance  down  stream. 

On  the  eighth  day  after  leaving  the  portage 
we  passed  the  East  Fork  (Chedotlotna)  and 
later,  on  the  same  day,  we  passed  the  two  out- 
lets of  the  South  Fork  (Istna),  which  are  so  far 
apart  that  we  were  three  hours  after  passing  the 
upper  before  we  arrived  at  the  lower  outlet. 

The  Upper  Kuskokwim,  the  North  Fork,  the 
104 


Tichininik  of  the  Minkhotana  Indians,  is  clear 
dark  water,  in  places  swift  and  in  other  places 
slack.  The  Chedotlotna  and  the  Istna  are  muddy 
water,  carrying  in  suspension  a  heavy  charge  of 
silt.  From  this  point  in  our  journey,  therefore, 
the  river  was  muddy  and  of  a  grayish  brown 
color.  It  was  by  the  Istna  that  Spurr  and  Post 
reached  the  Kuskokwim  from  Cook's  Inlet  in 
1898  when  they  followed  the  river  to  its  mouth. 
Here  we  met  another  Indian  in  a  canoe.  He  was 
dressed  in  caribou  skins  and  carried  a  bow  and 
arrows.  He  told  us  by  signs  that  a  little  further 
down  we  would  find  other  Indians. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  we  were  brought 
into  touch  with  a  tragedy  of  the  wilds,  which, 
though  I  find  no  reference  to  it  in  my  notes,  is 
still  fresh  in  my  memory.  I  think  it  was  opposite 
the  mouth  of  the  Istna  that  we  saw  a  small  log 
cabin  on  the  right  bank  and  what  particularly 
attracted  our  attention  was  a  tall  pole  standing 
on  the  shore  with  a  tattered  red  rag  fluttering 
at  the  top  of  it.  We  landed  below  this  pole  and 
found  fastened  to  it,  about  five  feet  from  the 
ground,  a  small  wooden  tablet  with  some  writing 
in  pencil  nearly  obliterated  by  the  weather. 
We  entered  the  cabin  a  few  yards  away  and 
at  once  recognized  from  the  smell  and  other  grue- 

105 


some  signs  that  death  and  decay  had  but  recently 
occupied  that  lonely  dwelling.  We  had  no 
difficulty  in  reading  the  story.  A  solitary  trapper 
had  built  the  cabin  during  the  previous  summer 
and  in  the  winter  when  the  thermometer  ranged 
from  thirty  to  sixty  degrees  below  he  had  sickened. 
When  he  realized  his  condition  he  erected  the 
pole  with  the  red  rag  as  a  signal,  on  the  slender 
chance  of  someone  passing  on  the  river.  He 
kept  a  diary  during  these  days  and  as  he  grew 
weaker  and  weaker  and  finally  unable  to  rise, 
having  barricaded  the  door  to  keep  out  the 
wolves,  he  made  his  entries  day  by  day.  When 
he  was  found  his  diary  lay  beside  him  on  the 
couch  where  he  died. 

In  the  spring  when  the  ice  moved  out  of  the 
river,  an  Indian  passing  in  his  canoe,  discovered 
the  tragedy  and  made  haste  down  to  the  Tacotna 
to  report  it  to  the  white  men  there.  He  found 
at  the  new  station  Peter  McGrath,  who  at  once 
took  a  party  of  men  and  went  up  to  investigate. 
They  buried  the  body  and  the  diary  and  other 
belongings  were  sent  out  to  the  United  States 
District  Court  at  Nome,  with  the  exception  of 
a  fine  old  iron  blade  made  by  the  Indians  that 
was  found  in  the  cabin. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  Tacotna 
1 06 


we  met  McGrath,  a  man  whom  I  had  known  at 
Nome  in  1905  and  who  was  now  United  States 
Deputy  Marshal  for  the  new  diggings  on  the 
Tacotna,  or  rather  the  Innoko.  From  him  we 
learned  all  the  details  that  I  have  just  related. 
I  tried  later  to  obtain  a  copy  of  the  dead  man's 
diary,  but  was  unable  to  do  so.  I  unfortunately 
let  several  years  go  by  before  making  the  attempt, 
and  it  seemed  to  have  been  lost. 

The  night  after  we  met  the  lone  Indian  we 
camped  at  the  mouth  of  a  large  stream  coming 
in  on  the  left,  where  we  found  a  small  Indian 
encampment.  The  Indians  called  this  river 
the  Keklone  and  they  said  it  had  a  branch  called 
the  Ishishna.  They  had  little  in  the  way  of  pos- 
sessions and  told  us  that  the  Indian  villages 
were  farther  down  the  river. 

On  the  second  day  after  this  we  arrived  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Tacotna,  where,  as  we  had 
been  led  to  expect  from  the  trappers,  we  found 
white  men  camped  and  a  small  trading  post 
already  established.  This  post  had  just  been 
built.  A  prospector  who  had  penetrated  from 
the  Yukon  to  the  head  of  a  stream  called  the 
Innoko  reported  the  discovery  of  gold  in  its  bed. 
This  discovery  was  considered  more  accessible 
from  the  Kuskokwim  than  from  the  Yukon  and 

107 


hence  the  invasion  of  the  former  river  in  the 
spring  preceding  our  arrival,  the  establishment  of 
the  little  post  at  the  mouth  of  the  Tacotna, 
and  the  consequent  disgust  of  the  trapper  whom 
we  had  met  up  river  seeking  another  retreat. 


1 08 


A    WOMAN    OF    THE    SIKMIUT 


CHAPTER  VII 
The  Village  Life 

Although  we  had  been  looking  for  an  Indian 
town  ever  since  we  launched  our  canoe  on  the 
Kuskokwim,  and  although  the  few  Indians  we 
met  on  that  stream  told  us  that  their  village  was 
farther  down,  nevertheless,  Sikmiut  was  a  sur- 
prise to  us.  When  we  landed  below  the  village 
we  were  met  by  a  tall  Indian  who  conducted 
us  at  once  to  the  largest  house,  where  we  were 
met  by  another  Indian  nearly  as  tall  as  the  first 
and  we  knew  that  we  were  in  the  presence  of  the 
chief.  At  no  other  point  on  our  journey,  either 
before  or  after,  were  we  treated  with  so  much 
attention  or  with  any  show  of  ceremony.  There 
was  an  exchange  of  greetings  and  some  talk  which, 
though  by  no  means  easy,  was  facilitated  by 
several  fortunate  circumstances.  In  the  first 
place,  every  intelligent  Indian  has  an  instinctive 
understanding  of  dumb  show,  and  this  chief  was 
a  very  intelligent  Indian.  In  the  second  place, 
I  found  that  I  was  not  entirely  unacquainted 
with  the  chief's  language  and  he  was  not  entirely 
unacquainted   with   ours.      He   had   been   down 

109 


the  river  to  the  Moravian  Mission  at  its  mouth 
and  there  had  picked  up  a  small  English  vocabu- 
lary. In  a  few  minutes  we  were  conducted  to  a 
house  near  that  of  the  chief,  which  I  believe  also 
belonged  to  him  or  to  one  of  his  family  who  was 
absent  with  his  own  family.  Our  things  were 
then  carried  up  from  the  canoe  and  we  were  made 
at  home. 

The  Sikmiut  people  we  found  more  comely 
and  better  kept  than  any  we  had  seen.  The 
first  thing  that  struck  us  was  the  diversity  of 
physical  type  among  the  inhabitants  of  this 
village,  for  though  the  Tinneh  features  and  stature 
stood  out  distinctly  in  a  majority,  there  were 
many  individuals  in  whom  this  type  was  greatly 
modified  and  there  was  a  third  class  of  individuals 
totally  unlike  the  Tinneh  in  features  and  in  stature 
and  who  represented  an  Eskimo  element.  The 
first  class  and  the  last  were  sharply  distinguished. 

The  second  fact  by  which  we  were  struck  was 
that  our  new  friends  spoke  a  language  that  was 
not  Tinneh  but  Innuit  and  that  corresponded 
closely  to  the  language  of  the  coast  Eskimo. 
This  I  could  recognize  at  once  from  the  little 
knowledge  of  Eskimo  that  I  had  acquired  during 
my  visit  to  the  Bering  Sea  coast  in  1905.  I 
now  made  good  use  of  that  small  knowledge 
no 


and  also  of  Father  Francis  Barnum's  grammar 
and  dictionary  of  the  Innuit  language.  That 
admirable  study  of  the  language  of  the  Eskimo 
on  the  Western  Coast  of  Alaska  was  a  very  great 
help  from  this  point  in  our  journey  onwards. 
It  made  communication  with  the  natives  vastly 
easier  and  constituted  a  basis  for  inquiry  in 
many  directions.  In  our  efforts  to  communicate 
with  the  Indians  up  river  and  at  the  lake  we  had 
no  such  help,  and  besides,  the  Tinneh  dialects 
are  more  difficult  than  the  Innuit.  Indeed,  the 
latter  is  not  only  a  very  pleasant  sounding 
language,  but  it  is  simple  in  structure  and  does 
not  offer  any  difficulties  to  our  pronunciation. 
It  can  be  written  perfectly  well  by  means  of  our 
alphabet  and  when  once  learned  it  lends  itself 
to  a  great  variety  of  expression. 

While  the  same  may  be  true  to  a  somewhat 
less  extent  of  the  Tinneh  dialects,  they  are,  I 
believe,  more  difficult  to  our  ear  and  harder  to 
speak  correctly. 

The  name  of  the  Sikmiut  village  itself  is  Innuit 
in  form,  for  the  ending  "miut"  is  the  usual  suffix 
which  means  in  that  language,  "the  people  of." 

Many  of  the  people  were  away  hunting  and 
I  did  not  obtain  a  complete  count  of  the  popula- 
tion.     I  counted  sixty  men,  women  and  children 

in 


and  was  informed  that  more  than  half  the  people 
were  away.  Putting  various  things  together, 
I  gathered  that  when  everyone  was  at  home  there 
were  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  people  in  the 
village. 

There  were  two  chiefs  at  Sikmiut,  a  head  chief 
whose  rank  was  inherited  and  a  second  or  sub- 
chief  who  was  chosen  by  the  first  to  be  his  lieu- 
tenant and  deputy.  (It  was  he  that  met  us  as 
we  landed.)  Both  were  men  of  ability  and  it 
was  clear  that  they  took  their  duties  seriously 
and  exercised  their  authority  for  the  good  of  the 
community. 

The  head  chief,  as  I  have  said,  had  visited  the 
Moravian  Mission  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  and 
had  seen  and  heard  something  of  white  men  and 
their  ways.  The  name  Andrew  had  been  bestowed 
upon  him  during  his  visit  and  he  had  adopted 
it  in  addition  to  the  Indian  name,  after  the  Indian 
fashion  of  having  several  names.  Indeed,  I 
did  not  learn  his  Indian  name,  because  it  is 
not  polite  to  inquire  and  it  is  a  kind  of  informa- 
tion that  Indians  do  not  offer  even  to  their  most 
favored  guests. 

Similarly  the  chiefs  of  the  Sikmiut  never  asked 
us  our  names,  but  they  soon  had  names  for  us. 
To  my  brother,  who  asked  about  the  big  game, 

112 


THE    SUB-CHIEF    OF    THE    SIKMIUT 


they  gave  the  name  Tuntuok  and  because  I 
was  inquiring  about  the  past  and  the  old  tradi- 
tions they  called  me  Esantuk  (The  Old  Times). 
These  names  stuck  to  us  down  to  the  mouth 
of  the  river. 

Although  he  had  visited  the  Mission,  the 
Sikmiut  chief  had  not  been  converted  or  baptized 
and  he  had  not  been  greatly  impressed  by  what 
he  had  seen  and  heard.  The  teaching,  he  said, 
was  good,  but  it  was  not  better  than  the  things 
that  his  people  had  taught  and  practiced  always. 
He  had  encountered  traders  on  his  journeys 
down  river  and  lately  white  people  had  made 
their  appearance  in  his  neighborhood  on  their 
way  to  the  Tacotna.  Reports  had  come  to  him, 
moreover,  from  the  Yukon  and  from  other  parts 
of  the  country  touching  the  doings  of  the  white 
men.  From  his  observations  and  from  reports, 
he  was  convinced  that  the  presence  of  the  white 
men  in  Alaska  was  an  evil  and  that  they  deliber- 
ately practiced  evil.  That  being  the  case,  what 
did  their  good  teaching  matter? 

Nothing  can  be  more  unfortunate  and  more 
sad  than  the  fact  that  the  representatives  of  the 
superior  race  that  first  become  known  to  the 
native  peoples  of  this  continent  are  usually  far 
inferior  to  these  natives  in  every  way.     Sikmiut 

113 


had  just  arrived  at  that  unfortunate  period  in 
its  history,  for  it  lay  on  the  route  of  the  miners 
on  their  way  up  to  the  Tacotna,  and  the  little 
stampede  of  the  early  summer  was  having  its 
effect.  On  this  subject  the  chief  was  very  anxious 
and  made  his  anxiety  known  to  us  with  entire 
frankness  but  without  bitterness.  He  resented 
the  sudden  appearance  of  the  white  man  on  the 
river.  Some  of  his  people  had  not  yet  seen  people 
of  our  race  and  none  wished  to  see  them;  but 
already  some  of  the  young  men  had  gone  astray, 
strong  drink  had  made  its  appearance  and  sick- 
ness had  increased  during  the  summer;  there 
was  general  discontent  and  he  foresaw  the  destruc- 
tion of  his  people  in  a  few  years. 

The  houses  of  the  Sikmiut  were  built  of  logs 
after  the  manner  of  Tinneh  houses  of  the  far 
interior.  Two  of  the  houses  had  glass  panes  in 
the  windows.  The  floors  were  on  the  level  of 
the  ground  and  never  sunken,  as  are  the  Eskimo 
houses.  On  the  other  hand,  the  arrangement 
of  the  village  was  in  the  Eskimo  style,  with  a 
kozgee  or  public  hall  occupying  the  central  posi- 
tion. This  kozgee  was  of  relatively  small  size; 
it  was  not  built  underground  and  was  not  used 
for  the  sweat  baths.  It  was  used  as  a  meeting 
place  and  a  council  chamber,  but  it  was  not  large 

114 


■-.J?  " 


*»** 


)!•-  'ill  i :   -,rr,-c  iiikf  of  the  sikmiut 


enough  to  hold  the  entire  population  and  the 
dances  and  festivals  which  took  place  in  it  were 
not  on  a  large  scale.  The  unmarried  men  some- 
times slept  in  the  kozgee,  but  this  was  not  the 
uniform  rule.  In  addition  to  the  kozgee  the 
Sikmiut  village  had  a  bath-house  (Mukeiawik) 
where  the  men  took  their  sweat  baths. 

Although  the  women  held  their  own  and  had 
a  good  deal  to  say,  the  Sikmiut  man  was  master 
in  his  own  house.  His  wife  was  by  no  means  so 
subservient  as  is  said  to  be  the  case  among  some 
of  the  Tinneh  tribes,  but  she  was  not  possessed 
of  so  much  authority  as  the  Eskimo  wife  on  the 
coast. 

In  respect  of  the  costume,  the  Eskimo  style 
prevailed  almost,  but  not  quite,  exclusively,  for 
here  and  there  were  to  be  seen  surviving  touches 
that  could  be  traced  to  the  Tinneh  tradition, 
like  the  headdress  sometimes  worn  by  the  women. 
In  their  material  equipment  and  their  posses- 
sions generally  the  Sikmiut  showed  a  mixture 
of  Indian  and  Eskimo  culture.  The  birchbark 
dishes  of  the  Indian  were  in  common  use  and 
so  were  the  wooden  kantuks,  and  both  were 
manufactured  with  great  perfection  at  Sikmiut. 
The  bows  were  those  of  the  interior  and  unlike 
the    stout    sinew    backed    bows    of   the    Eskimo. 

ii5 


The  snowshoes  were  also  of  Tinneh  pattern. 
The  arrows  were  tipped  with  bone  or  with  wood. 
The  wooden  dishes  were  of  two  kinds:  those 
carved  from  a  single  piece  and  those  made  from 
two  pieces,  and  both  were  admirably  made. 
The  larger  and  higher  ones  are  made  of  two  pieces, 
a  flat  bottom  combined  with  vertical  sides,  con- 
sisting of  a  single  piece  of  uniform  thickness, 
bent  round  and  spliced  where  the  ends  come 
together.  These  vessels  are  either  oval  or  circular 
in  shape  and  vary  in  size  from  drinking  cups 
to  vessels  of  about  five  gallons  capacity.  They 
are  as  watertight  as  any  cask  or  firkin  and  are 
as  good  examples  of  cooperage  as  one  could  see 
anywhere.  The  birchbark  vessels  are  also  very 
beautifully  and  neatly  made.  One  type  is  flat 
with  sloping  sides  and  the  other  type  is  high  with 
straight  sides.  The  latter  is  sometimes  provided 
with  a  handle.  The  Sikmiut  make  no  pottery 
and  no  baskets. 

The  clothing  of  the  Sikmiut  is  rich  in  material 
and  workmanship.  The  skins  of  animals  furnish 
the  materials  and  they  are  tanned  with  the  fur 
and  rendered  beautifully  soft  and  pliable  by  an 
application  of  the  brains  of  animals  and  by  rubbing. 
The  furs  used  include  most  of  the  furbearing 
animals  of  Alaska.  The  squirrel,  marmot,  arctic 
116 


THE    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    SUB-CHIEF    OF    THE    SIKMIUT 


hare,  muskrat,  mink,  beaver,  otter,  marten,  wolf, 
wolverine,  caribou  and  reindeer  are  employed 
in  various  ways  in  the  manufacture  of  clothing. 
The  arctic  hare  is  used  for  undergarments  and 
for  lining  about  the  necks  and  hoods  of  women's 
coats.  The  squirrel,  muskrat  and  marmot  are 
used  for  plain  working  garments  of  men  and 
women.  The  wolverine  and  wolf  skins  are  used 
chiefly  for  trimmings,  the  skins  of  the  caribou 
are  used  for  making  the  heavier  and  rougher 
garments,  those  of  the  reindeer  are  cut  and  let 
into  the  dark  furs  for  decorative  effect.  Very 
pretty  dresses  for  women  and  little  girls  are  also 
made  of  skins  of  the  young  reindeer.  For  some 
reason  which  I  did  not  learn,  fox  skins  are  not 
used  for  clothing.  Neither  the  red  fox  nor  the 
white  fox  nor  any  of  the  other  varieties  of  fox, 
so  much  prized  by  our  people,  is  worn  by  the 
Sikmiut  or  by  any  people  of  Alaska  so  far  as  I 
could  learn. 

One  of  the  handsomest  dresses  that  I  saw  was 
one  worn  occasionally  by  the  belle  of  the  village, 
a  very  comely  girl  of  about  sixteen  years,  still 
unmarried,  and  very  well  aware  of  her  fresh 
beauty.  Her  ample  dress,  which  she  had  made 
herself  and  of  which  she  was  justly  proud,  reached 
to  her  ankles  and  was  made  of  the  finest  selected 

117 


mink  skins  with  pieces  of  light  colored  reindeer 
skin  let  in.  The  trimmings  were  wolf,  wolverine 
and  arctic  hare.  I  noticed  that  this  very  attrac- 
tive young  lady  was  less  reluctant  to  be  photo- 
graphed than  were  some  of  the  older  women 
whose  dresses  were  not  so  new. 

It  was  a  genuine  pleasure  to  see  the  well  cared 
for  children  of  the  Sikmiut,  whose  tasteful  and 
comfortable  clothing  was  an  expression  of  the 
pride  and  affection  of  the  parents.  The  little 
son  and  daughter  of  the  sub-chief  were  in  all 
respects  the  children  of  nobility,  a  perfect  little 
lady  and  gentleman  of  seven  and  five.  Other 
children  ran  away  from  us  and  were  too  shy 
to  be  photographed,  but  these  two  little  aristo- 
crats, though  not  bold  or  forward,  were  very  self 
possessed  and  dignified.  The  sons  and  daughters 
of  the  head  chief  were  already  grown  men  and 
women  with  houses  of  their  own. 

My  efforts  to  draw  from  Chief  Andrew  some 
of  his  personal  views  and  also  the  customs  and 
beliefs  of  his  people  were  well  understood  by  him 
and  met  with  a  very  intelligent  response.  A 
word  or  two  selected  from  the  dictionary,  and 
helped  out  by  pantomime,  would  often  elicit  a 
reply  which,  in  a  few  well  chosen  words  or  phrases, 
conveyed  the  information  desired  and  reduced 
118 


J&SaBilB^— 


m^vm 


S'l 


A     V\\    CF    THE    SIKMIUT.       A    MIXED    ESKIMO    AND    INDIAN    TYPE 


to  a  minimum  the  use  of  the  dictionary.  Besides, 
the  chief  brought  to  bear  the  entire  resources  of 
his  English  vocabulary  picked  up  at  the  Mission, 
and  in  this  way  we  were  in  very  frequent  com- 
munication with  him. 

We  stayed  two  days  and  a  half  among  the 
Sikmiut.  We  would  have  liked  to  stay  long 
enough  to  cultivate  a  closer  acquaintance  with 
them  and  to  become  familiar  with  their  customs, 
but  we  had  an  uncertain  journey  ahead,  the  sum- 
mer was  well  spent  and  we  had  to  be  content 
with  what  we  had  seen  and  learned,  hoping  some 
day  to  return. 

On  the  24th  of  August,  at  one  o'clock,  we  left 
Sikmiut  and  a  little  further  down  we  stopped  to 
cut  a  mast  for  the  first  time  and  to  rig  our  sail. 
The  river  was  wide  and  while  the  wind  held  we 
made  good  time  before  it. 

On  the  26th  we  passed  the  site  of  the  old 
Russian  station  at  Kolmakoff.  The  story  of 
this  post  is  the  story  of  Russian  enterprise  in 
this  part  of  the  territory.  Ivan  Lukeen  was  born 
in  California  of  Russian  and  Spanish  parentage, 
and  was  educated  at  Sitka.  In  1832,  while 
attached  to  the  fort  at  Nushagak  on  Bristol 
Bay,  he  made  a  journey  up  the  Nushagak  River, 
crossed  a  portage  to  the  source  of  the  Holiknuk 

119 


and  explored  that  river  to  its  confluence  with 
the  Kuskokwim.  He  then  floated  down  the 
latter  river  for  a  distance  of  ninety  miles  and 
built  on  the  site  at  which  we  had  now  arrived 
a  small  fort  surrounded  by  a  quadrangular  stock- 
ade. There  he  remained  for  several  years  in 
solitary  rulership,  adopting  the  life  and  language 
of  the  Kuskwogamiut. 

In  1835  Glasunoff  explored  the  mouth  of  the 
river  and  visited  Lukeen.  The  fort  was  then 
strengthened  and  called  a  redoubt.  In  1841 
it  was  partly  burnt  by  the  natives  and  as  a  result 
the  commander  of  Fort  Nushagak,  Kolmakoff 
by  name,  went  up  to  rebuild  it.  From  that  time 
forward  it  became  known  as  Kolmakoff  or  Kol- 
makofski.  In  1866  the  redoubt  was  dismantled. 
Like  all  such  establishments  of  the  Russians, 
Kolmakoff  was  during  the  years  from  1836  till 
1866  a  trading  center,  visited  by  native  traders 
who  brought  their  furs.  It  appears  to  have  been 
a  meeting  place  for  the  Tinneh  Indians  from  the 
interior  and  the  Eskimo  from  below. 

On  the  27th  we  stopped  for  some  hours  at  the 
native  village  of  Ohagamiut.  We  were  now 
among  the  Eskimo  in  their  own  undisputed  terri- 
tory, where  their  customs  were  unaffected  by 
their  neighbors.  Later  on  the  same  day  we 
120 


passed  the  Yukon  portage.  At  this  point  the 
great  bend  in  the  Kuskokwim  towards  the  north 
brings  it  to  within  twenty  miles  of  the  Yukon. 
The  country  between  is  flat  and  occupied  by  a 
chain  of  small  lakes.  The  missionaries  and 
others  visiting  the  lower  Kuskokwim,  as  well 
as  the  natives,  have  been  accustomed  to  use  this 
portage.  It  had  always  been  used  from  the 
most  ancient  times  by  the  aboriginal  inhabitants 
in  going  to  and  fro  between  the  two  great  rivers. 
Immediately  below  this  point  the  Kuskokwim 
swings  to  the  south  again  and  enters  the  sea  four 
hundred  miles  from  the  mouth  of  the  Yukon. 
On  the  same  day  that  we  passed  the  portage 
we  made  camp  one  mile  below  the  village  of 
Ogovik,  which  is  ten  miles  below  the  portage. 
We  spent  the  remainder  of  the  day  and  half  of 
the  next  in  the  village.  Here  the  Eskimo  features 
and  customs  were  strongly  marked.  The  in- 
habitants of  Ohagamiut  and  Ogovik  are  pure 
Eskimo. 

At  noon  on  the  28th  we  started  out  in  a  high 
wind  with  our  sprit  sail  set.  The  water  was 
rough  and  choppy  with  heavy  waves  washing 
the  banks,  and  we  scudded  before  the  wind  till 
seven  o'clock.  The  wind  had  been  freshening 
and  threatened  to  blow  a  gale.     The  banks  were 

121 


high  and  sheer  and  we  were  watching  anxiously 
for  a  possible  landing  place  and  a  camping  ground. 
On  our  way  we  passed  a  mountain  whose  steep 
slope  was  washed  by  the  river  at  its  base.  Later, 
by  good  luck,  we  spied  a  break  in  the  right  bank 
where  a  footing  was  afforded  at  the  water's  edge 
and  a  means  of  ascent  presented  itself. 

By  the  time  we  had  our  tent  pitched  among 
the  timber,  our  fire  going  and  our  bed  of  spruce 
boughs  prepared,  it  was  already  dark.  Before 
we  had  finished  supper  and  made  things  snug, 
the  wind  was  blowing  a  gale.  It  swept  the 
spruce  timber  with  a  great  roar.  It  was  a  cold, 
damp  wind  and  our  fire  seemed  very  comfort- 
able, protected  as  we  were  by  the  thick  growth 
and  by  the  larger  tree  trunks.  As  the  night  wore 
on,  however,  we  grew  rather  uneasy,  for  we 
heard  one  after  another  of  the  big  trees  not  far 
away  in  the  forest,  snapped  by  the  wind  and 
come  crashing  down.  We  did  not  sleep  much 
that  night,  but  preferred  to  sit  by  our  fire,  which 
was  kept  going  till  nearly  dawn. 

The  gale  continued  to  blow  all  next  day  with 
heavy  squalls  of  rain  and  we  stayed  in  camp. 
We  had  overcome  our  anxiety  on  account  of  the 
falling  trees  and  spent  a  very  cozy  and  comfort- 
able day  in  camp  looking  out  occasionally  from 

122 


OX    THE    LOWER    KUSKOKWIM 


our  safe  shelter  at  the  river,  now  whitened  by 
the  wind  and  thrown  in  spray  against  the  steep 
banks.  The  canoe  we  had  unloaded  and  dragged 
to  a  place  of  safety  into  the  little  gulley  by  which 
we  had  ascended. 

On  the  30th  the  wind  had  moderated  and, 
being  fair,  we  ventured  out  under  sail.  Pretty 
soon  the  wind  rose  again  and  we  found  that  we 
could  not  carry  so  much  canvas,  so  we  ran  under 
a  bank,  put  in  a  reef  and  started  out  again.  The 
river  now  spread  out  very  wide  and  was  full 
of  bad  sand-bars  that  could  not  be  seen.  I  think 
this  was  the  most  exciting  run  we  had.  The 
wind  kept  rising  and  the  water  became  very  rough 
and  we  had  to  feel  for  the  deep  water  and  dodge 
the  sand-bars  as  we  sped  along.  Our  good  canoe 
carried  her  load  and  sailed  well.  After  more 
than  two  hours  of  the  exciting  chase  we  rounded 
a  bend  and  the  wind  came  dead  ahead,  driving 
the  spray  in  our  faces.  By  good  luck  a  large 
sized  slough  opened  on  the  left  bank  and  we  ran 
to  it  for  shelter.  Once  into  it,  we  were  in  calm 
water  and  sheltered  from  the  wind.  Here  we 
camped  on  the  low  banks  of  the  slough.  Again 
the  gale  blew  all  night  and  all  the  next  day  and 
we  were  glad  to  remain  in  our  comfortable  quarters 
for  the  time. 

123 


The  country  was  now  changed;  the  timber 
gave  way  to  a  growth  of  willow  and  alder.  There 
were  no  longer  any  high  banks  or  tables  of  land 
lying  high  above  the  river  as  at  Kolmakoff. 
The  river  wound  through  a  low  flat  country 
and  we  were  approaching  the  tundra  and  facing 
a  prospect  much  more  desolate  and  dreary  than 
the  wild  picturesqueness  of  the  upper  Kuskokwim 
and  quite  different  from  the  high  terraces  with 
forests  of  spruce  timber  and  stretches  of  open 
mossy  ground  that  we  had  with  us  on  the  middle 
reaches  of  the  river.  The  animal  life  was  also 
changed;  the  ducks  and  geese  were  now  rare, 
but  that  may  have  been  partly  due  to  their 
having  already  migrated  south.  The  eagles, 
both  bald  and  golden,  that  we  saw  very  frequently 
all  the  way  from  the  lake  to  the  Holiknuk,  now 
disappeared ;  the  goshawk,  a  very  frequent  visitor 
near  our  camps  farther  up,  came  no  longer,  and 
the  magpie,  seen  about  Sikmiut,  was  absent  also. 
Indeed,  there  was  little  animal  life  of  any  kind 
on  this  stretch  of  the  river.  At  Sikmiut  and 
later  at  Mamtrelich  we  were  told  that  in  former 
times  the  moose  and  the  caribou  came  in  large 
numbers  to  this  country,  but  that  of  late  years 
they  had  not  been  seen. 

September  ist  came  in  calm  and  clear  with  an 
124 


A    KUSKWOGAMIUT    MAX,    SHOWING    LABRETS    AND    EARRINGS 


unruffled    river    stretching    away    in    the    bright 
sunshine  and  reflecting  the  banks. 

As  we  paddled  along,  the  river  spread  out  until 
it  seemed  miles  wide  with  islands  and  low  head- 
lands, while  the  current  became  imperceptible. 
It  seemed  at  this  point  as  if  we  were  on  a  large 
lake  rather  than  a  river. 

By  our  calculations  we  felt  that  we  should  be 
now  near  the  native  village  of  Mamtrelich  and 
the  Bethel  Mission,  but  we  were  uncertain  whether 
it  would  prove  to  be  one  day's  journey  or  two  or 
more.  Early  in  the  afternoon  we  saw  a  small 
village  of  three  huts  on  the  left  bank  and  paddled 
towards  it.  We  found  one  man  at  home  stand- 
ing on  the  shore  to  meet  us  as  we  landed.  He 
made  the  sign  of  welcome,  but  that  seemed  to 
be  all  we  could  get  out  of  him.  By  means  of  my 
small  Innuit  vocabulary  and  by  gesture  we  tried 
to  bring  it  home  to  this  fellow  that  we  wanted 
to  know  what  was  the  name  of  his  village,  how 
far  it  was  to  the  next  village,  how  far  it  was  to 
Mamtrelich,  how  far  it  was  to  the  Mission. 
Had  he  ever  seen  or  heard  of  any  white  men 
living  below  on  the  river?  For  all  of  these  ques- 
tions he  had  the  same  sign — he  did  not  know. 
Despairing  at  last  of  getting  any  information 
out  of  this  savage,  we  were  pushing  off  and  were 

125 


already  afloat  when  he  suddenly  showed  a  great 
command  of  the  Eskimo  language.  Grabbing 
a  stick  and  talking  all  the  time  he  began  to  draw 
lines  on  the  sand  of  the  shore.  Becoming  inter- 
ested, we  landed  again  and  watched  him.  Fol- 
lowing his  movements,  though  not  his  words, 
we  soon  made  out  that  he  was  drawing  a  map 
of  the  river  from  the  point  where  we  stood  down 
nearly  to  its  mouth.  He  showed  that  after  fol- 
lowing a  straight  course  for  some  miles  the  river 
doubled  back  on  itself.  If  we  followed  it  we 
would  have  to  go  a  long  distance  to  get  to  Mamtre- 
lich,  which  he  indicated  in  its  position  on  the  map. 
But  here  was  the  important  point;  there  was  a 
short  cut.  Only  about  four  miles  below  the  point 
where  we  stood  he  drew  two  straight  lines  indi- 
cating a  canal  uniting  the  two  sides  of  the  loop 
in  the  river  and  cutting  off  the  big  bend.  In  an 
instant  the  whole  situation  was  perfectly  clear. 
He  had  evidently  understood  our  signs  from  the 
first  and  only  relented  when  he  saw  us  going 
away  disappointed. 

Soon  after  we  left  him  a  breeze  sprang  up  and 
we  put  up  our  sail  and  when  we  judged  we  had 
run  the  distance  we  watched  for  the  canal  and, 
sure  enough,  we  soon  picked  it  up,  half  concealed 
by  the  willows  on  the  bank,  and  running  into 
126 


it,  we  lowered  the  sail.  It  was  a  narrow,  deep 
slough,  or  natural  canal,  running  almost  straight 
across  the  neck  of  land.  In  about  half  an  hour 
we  found  ourselves  again  on  the  broad  river, 
having  saved  ourselves  a  long  journey  of  many 
miles  that  we  would  have  been  obliged  to  make 
had  we  followed  the  river,  as  we  certainly  would 
have  done  if  we  had  not  been  so  accurately 
informed. 

At  half  after  six  on  that  day,  the  first  of  Sep- 
tember, we  arrived  at  the  native  village  of  Mam- 
trelich,  where  the  Moravian  Mission  of  Bethel  is 
established  under  the  protection  of  the  Moravian 
College  at  Bethlehem  in  Pennsylvania.  We 
found  the  Mission  in  charge  of  Mr.  Stecher,  who, 
with  his  devoted  wife,  had  been  for  five  years 
at  this  station  without  having  seen  the  outside 
world.  They  were  assisted  by  two  other  mis- 
sionaries. There  was  also  a  small  trading  store 
on  the  other  side  of  the  village  opposite  the 
Mission. 

At  Bethel,  which  is  near  the  mouth  of  the  river, 
we  found  to  our  surprise  two  of  the  flat-bottomed 
stern-wheel  steamers  such  as  are  used  on  the 
Yukon.  When  the  report  of  gold  on  the  Innoko 
in  the  spring  had  promised  to  start  a  stampede 
to  the  Kuskokwim,  some  one  had  sent  the  first 

127 


of  these  steamers  over  into  the  mouth  of  the 
Kuskokwim  from  the  Yukon  with  the  idea  of 
doing  a  thriving  business  by  running  up  and  down 
the  river  from  Bethel  to  the  mouth  of  the  Tacotna. 
A  little  later  someone  else  had  sent  the  second 
steamer  as  a  rival  to  the  first.  But  the  stampede 
was  abortive,  and  there  the  two  rival  steamers 
lay  all  summer  with  nothing  to  do.  Now  winter 
was  coming  on  and  the  gales  made  it  unsafe  for 
them  to  go  out  to  sea  to  return  to  St.  Michael. 

The  missionaries,  who  showed  us  every  kind- 
ness and  courtesy,  put  at  our  disposal  a  little 
log  cabin,  where,  though  there  were  no  beds  or 
furniture,  we  managed  to  be  very  comfortable. 
The  weather  was  now  cold,  with  the  temperature, 
especially  at  night,  dropping  rapidly.  We  still 
had  a  journey  of  500  miles  to  bring  us  in  touch 
with  communication  to  the  outside  world.  That 
journey  lay  along  the  coast  of  Bering  Sea  to 
St.  Michael  and  it  was  our  intention  to  travel 
in  our  canoe  and  arrive  there  in  time  to  catch 
the  last  steamer  for  the  "outside."  There  was 
one  alternative  and  that  was  to  return  up  the 
river  to  the  Yukon  portage,  cross  over  and  come 
down  the  Yukon  to  St.  Michael,  which  is  on  an 
island  at  its  mouth.  We  voted  against  this 
alternative  and  decided  to  proceed  by  sea  and 
128 


take  our  chances  with  winds  and  weather.  We 
proposed  to  allow  ourselves  ten  days  at  Mamtre- 
lich  to  assemble  collections  and  take  notes  and 
still  be  in  time  to  catch  the  outgoing  steamer  at 
St.  Michael.  For  the  purposes  mentioned  we 
visited  also  a  village  about  two  miles  farther 
down  the  river  on  the  opposite  side,  and  in  both 
these  villages  we  were  very  successful.  The 
inhabitants  were  not  anxious  to  trade  with  us, 
but  we  nevertheless  made  satisfactory  collec- 
tions during  our  stay. 

A  curious  and  interesting  form  of  amusement 
in  which  people  of  all  ages  indulge  is  called  aihruk 
and  consists  in  a  kind  of  play  with  a  string  made 
of  braided  sinew.  This  string  is  doubled  in  the 
form  used  in  our  children's  game  of  cat's  cradle 
and  is  employed  in  much  the  same  way,  except 
that  the  process  is  much  longer  and  the  figures 
that  are  developed  are  much  more  elaborate. 
Indeed,  these  figures  sometimes  present  an  extraor- 
dinary elaboration.  I  was  able  to  collect  and 
record  twelve  different  figures,  each  of  which 
had  its  name  and  was  supposed  to  represent  some 
object.  Among  the  subjects  learned  and  recorded 
by  me  were  "the  earrings,"  "the  caribou,"  "the 
eyes  and  mouth,"  "two  squirrels,"  "the  old 
woman,"    "the    paddle,"    "the   ears    and    nose," 

129 


"the  bear,"  "the  crow's  foot,"  "the  throwing 
stick."  I  have  sent  these  to  Miss  Kathleen 
Haddon  of  Cambridge,  England,  the  author  of 
"The  Cat's  Cradle,"  who  informs  me  that  the 
"crow's  foot"  is  the  same  as  one  from  Torres 
Straits  already  recorded. 

I  found  in  1905  similar  games  but  with  different 
names  and  different  figures  along  the  coast  of 
Bering  Sea  between  St.  Michael  and  Cape  Prince 
of  Wales,  and  the  practice  or  invention,  if  one 
may  so  call  it,  is  very  prevalent  and  very  highly 
developed  among  the  Western  Eskimo  generally. 
It  is,  however,  an  invention  that  is  found  among 
primitive  peoples  in  all  parts  of  the  world  and  is 
absolutely  unknown  as  to  its  origin  or  original 
significance.* 

An  old  man  at  Mamtrelich  village  in  develop- 
ing some  of  his  more  elaborate  figures  accom- 
panied his  motions  by  a  kind  of  incantation  or 
rhythmical  recitation,  the  words  of  which,  so 
far  as  I  could  make  out,  had  no  meaning.  It 
appears  that  some,  if  not  all,  of  the  string  figures 
of  the  Eskimo  of  the  Kuskokwim  have  their 
appropriate  corresponding  verbal  formulas  which 


*See  THE  CAT'S  CRADLE  by  Kathleen  Haddon  and 
STRING  FIGURES  FROM  MANY  LANDS  by  Caroline 
Furness  Jayne. 

I30 


are   repeated   in   time  with   the   motions   of  the 
fingers. 

By  way  of  experiment  I  tried  to  induce  the  old 
man  whom  I  have  mentioned  to  develop  one  of 
his  string  figures  without  the  recitation.  His 
attempt  to  do  so  seemed  to  result  in  confusion 
and  he  had  in  each  case  to  begin  again  and  finally 
to  repeat  his  formula.  I  suppose  that  his  state 
of  mind  may  have  been  similar  to  my  own  when 
I  try  to  find  a  word  in  the  dictionary,  and  in  order 
to  do  so  I  have  to  repeat  the  whole  alphabet  to 
discover  where  I  am  at. 


131 


CHAPTER  VIII 
The  Lament  of  the  Native 

The  missionaries  told  us  that  the  Kuskwog- 
amiut  are  remarkably  quick  to  learn  but 
very  reluctant  to  give  up  their  ancient  customs 
and  habits  of  life.  They  were  especially  dis- 
turbed because  these  simple  and  primitive  people 
insisted  on  performing  every  winter  their  cus- 
tomary dances,  recitals  and  dramatic  representa- 
tions. All  this  the  missionaries  objected  to  and 
tried  to  suppress,  and  by  their  methods  of  inter- 
ference had  given  great  offense,  as  we  soon  learned 
from  the  natives  themselves.  At  first  the  Eskimo 
were  naturally  suspicious  of  our  interest,  but 
they  were  quick  to  understand  our  good  inten- 
tions and  to  respond.  When  they  realized  that 
we  sympathized  with  them  in  their  desire  to  keep 
up  the  old  traditions,  they  stated  their  case  and 
presented  their  argument  with  the  utmost  clear- 
ness and  logic.  Nothing  could  have  been  more 
intelligent  than  the  way  in  which  they  defended 
their  time-honored  customs  which  to  them  meant 
so  much.  They  showed  great  intelligence  and 
fairness  in  their  attitude  towards  the  missionaries, 
132 


whom  they  regarded  in  a  sense  as  their  guests 
and  whom  they  acknowledged  to  be  good  men. 
On  their  own  part  they  claimed  the  right  to  live 
in  harmony  among  themselves  and  to  promote 
their  own  happiness  as  their  fathers  had  done  and 
according  to  their  own  customs,  for  which  they 
feel  a  natural  respect  and  veneration. 

We,  of  course,  did  not  see  any  of  the  dances 
or  other  performances  because  they  take  place  in 
the  winter  only,  but  we  had  them  described  to 
us.  They  are  much  too  long  and  elaborate  to  be 
given  here,  but  I  may  say  that  they  are  in  the 
nature  of  festivals  which  often  last  several  days. 
The  village  that  gives  the  performance  invites 
all  the  neighboring  villages  and  even  villages  at 
great  distances  are  included  in  the  invitations 
that  are  sent  out.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  inter- 
change of  ideas  and  experiences,  as  well  as  of 
commodities.  There  is  much  feasting  and  the 
ceremonies  and  dances  are  performed  in  strict 
conformity  with  a  well  established  usage  and  are 
governed  by  rules  of  long  standing.  The  rites 
attending  the  celebration  of  these  festivals  are 
often  very  elaborate  and  are  performed  with 
much  attention  to  detail. 

As  represented  to  me,  it  struck  me  that  these 
occasions  are  singularly  free  from  objectionable 

133 


features  of  any  kind.  There  is  an  underlying 
religious  motive  to  some  of  them  and  all  have  a 
profound  social  significance.  They  are  not  only 
diverting  but  they  keep  the  minds  of  the  popu- 
lation of  all  ages  occupied  and  their  wits  sharp- 
ened and  directed  towards  definite  ends  for  the 
common  good.  They  regulate  life  and  afford  enter- 
tainment for  the  long  winter  of  indoor  life  which 
would  otherwise  tend  toward  idleness  with  its 
inevitable  evils  and  hardships.  They  also  promote 
friendly  intercourse  between  the  different  villages 
and  stimulate  trade  relations. 

The  missionaries,  on  the  other  hand,  argue 
that  these  native  practices,  though  apparently 
harmless,  are  bound  up  with  their  heathendom 
generally,  that  they  tend  to  preserve  religious 
beliefs  and  notions  about  spirits  that  are  not 
included  in  the  Christian  teaching.  For  this 
reason  they  feel  that  the  practices  must  be 
stamped  out  before  the  people  can  be  reclaimed 
from  error  and  converted  to  the  true  faith.  They 
told  me  themselves  that  they  had  gone  to  the 
places  of  the  festivals  uninvited  at  different  times 
and  interfered  as  far  as  discretion  would  permit. 
From  the  natives  I  heard  also  of  these  visits. 
They  explained  that  the  missionaries  knew  very 
well    that   going   uninvited    to   a    feast   was    not 

134 


according  to  custom  and  that  interference  was 
an  affront.  Most  bitter  of  all  was  the  complaint 
of  the  older  men  and  women  that  the  young 
people  no  longer  conducted  themselves  with  the 
propriety  which  had  always  been  customary. 
They  were  even  becoming  disrespectful  to  their 
elders  and  careless  of  the  old  ways  and  of  the 
things  their  people  had  always  considered  proper. 
This  they  attributed  to  the  teaching  of  the 
missionaries. 

In  addition  to  these  complaints  I  heard  again 
and  repeatedly  that  sickness  had  increased  and 
that  new  forms  of  disease  had  come  among  them. 
They  felt  that  their  happiness  was  slipping  away 
from  them  and  that  demoralization  and  misery 
were  encroaching  upon  their  lives  as  a  result  of 
the  white  man's  presence. 

I  am  not  prepared  here  to  discuss  the  justice 
of  these  complaints.  I  have  no  doubt  that  in 
making  them  the  people  of  the  villages  were 
expressing  a  very  real  conviction  and  that  they 
have  experienced  a  very  real  sense  of  injury. 

As  a  piece  of  evidence  to  confirm  the  state- 
ments made  about  the  inroads  of  disease,  I  saw 
several  villages  entirely  deserted  where  the  houses 
were  falling  upon  the  bones  of  the  unburied  dead. 
The  missionaries  also  told  us  of  the  sudden  and 

135 


epidemic  eruptions  of  disease  that  had  left  whole 
villages  depopulated,  but  they  attributed  the  cir- 
cumstance to  the  habits  of  the  natives  themselves. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  things  about  these 
villages  on  the  lower  Kuskokwim,  from  a  scenic 
point  of  view  as  well  as  from  other  considerations, 
are  the  old  cemeteries.  I  say  old  cemeteries 
because  there  are  two  forms  of  burial,  an  older 
form  and  a  later  form.  At  the  present  time  the 
burial  custom  is  the  same  as  that  practiced  by  the 
Eskimo  of  other  parts  of  Alaska.  The  body  is 
placed  in  a  rough  box  and  this  either  rests  on 
the  ground  or  is  supported  above  it. 

In  the  older  form  of  burial,  the  grave  was  dug 
in  the  frozen  earth  and  above  it  a  monument 
was  erected  containing  a  tablet  with  an  inscrip- 
tion in  picture  writing,  and  attached  to  this,  a 
wooden  mask  to  represent  the  dead.  If  the  man 
be  very  important  a  complete  statue  may  take 
the  place  of  the  mask  to  represent  him.  Weapons 
and  implements  used  by  the  dead  were  fastened 
upon  the  monument  and  the  whole  structure  was 
sometimes  ten  feet  high.  All  the  graves  of  this 
type  were  old,  but  how  old  I  could  not  tell  nor 
could  I  get  any  satisfactory  information  about 
them.  Upon  one  of  them  was  an  old  Russian 
flint-lock  gun,  which,  however,  would  only  be  a 
136 


+ 


®ih 


o 


VII-  l\    TT 

VIII-  A     '  A7-1J    A  '  1 

ix-   f^A    A  A 


5>0 


THE    TEN    COMMANDMENTS    IN    PICTURE-WRITING 


very  rough  indication  of  the  age  of  the  grave. 
The  inscriptions  in  picture  writing  had  been 
painted  on  the  tablets  and  were  in  each  instance 
almost  entirely  obliterated,  a  thing  that  gave  me 
much  regret. 

The  art  of  picture-writing  is  highly  developed 
among  the  Kuskwogamiut.  There  is  nothing 
that  they  will  not  essay  in  the  field  of  literature 
by  their  skilful  handling  of  this  picturesque  device. 
Among  the  examples  that  I  was  able  to  collect 
are  invitations  sent  to  distant  villages  to  come 
to  a  feast,  records  of  hunting,  fragments  of  old 
songs  and  legends,  personal  narratives  and  stories 
of  adventure.  Through  the  kindness  of  Mr. 
Stecker,  the  missionary,  I  also  obtained  copies 
of  some  remarkable  documents  written  by  a  very 
intelligent  native  who  listened  to  the  scripture 
readings  at  the  Mission  Chapel  with  great  atten- 
tion. He  wrote  down  everything  he  heard  in 
picture-writing  and  had  thus  accumulated  a  library 
of  his  own.  Among  the  first  things  he  wrote  down 
was  the  decalogue.  That  the  reader  may  see 
what  the  Ten  Commandments  look  like  I  repro- 
duce here  a  faithful  copy. 

The  author  of  this  document,  whose  name 
deserves  to  be  remembered,  though  I  am  sorry 
to  say   I   have  forgotten   it,   relying  entirely  on 

137 


his  own  resources,  afterwards  discovered  that  he 
needed  a  more  rapid  method  of  writing  to  keep 
up  with  the  spirit  of  the  time,  and  he  gradually 
developed  a  system  of  shorthand  by  using  the 
picture  writing  as  a  basis.  By  means  of  this 
discovery  he  could  take  down  all  the  lessons  and 
sermons  that  he  heard  and  recite  them  afterwards 
without  missing  anything. 

The  central  feature  of  each  village,  as  of  all 
Eskimo  villages,  is  the  kozgee,  a  large  house 
built  mostly  underground  and  big  enough  to  hold 
the  entire  population  of  the  village  and  in  addi- 
tion such  guests  as  may  be  invited  to  the  cere- 
monial meetings  and  dance  festivals  that  always 
take  place  in  the  kozgee.  At  all  other  times  it 
is  the  men's  house,  where  all  the  men  of  the 
village  may  assemble,  and  where  each  has  his 
appointed  seat  and  sleeping  place.  From  this 
club  women  are  excluded  except  at  the  dances. 
It  is  there  that  all  the  unmarried  men  sleep. 
Married  men  have  been  known  to  sleep  there 
also. 

Another  function  of  the  kozgee  is  that  of  the 
sweat  bath  in  which  the  men  are  fond  of  indulging. 
The  heavy  hewn  planks  that  form  the  floor  are 
movable  over  a  square  central  area.  Underneath 
this  area  is  a  deep  pit,  directly  under  the  smoke 
138 


hole  in  the  roof.  When  the  men  or  any  group 
of  them  wish  to  take  a  sweat  bath  they  build  a 
great  fire  in  this  pit  and  in  this  they  place  stones 
which  become  red  hot.  In  the  meantime  great 
wooden  buckets  filled  with  water  are  placed  in 
readiness,  and  the  entrance  is  tightly  closed  so 
that  no  air  can  come  in.  Each  man  holds  a 
cleverly  devised  respirator  in  his  mouth  which  he 
removes  at  intervals,  as  the  air  becomes  more 
intensely  heated,  to  drink  enormous  draughts  of 
water  from  the  buckets.  Finally  water  is  dribbled 
continuously  on  the  red  hot  stones  and  the  smoky 
air  of  the  kozgee,  already  intensely  heated, 
becomes  heavily  charged  with  steam.  Perspi- 
ration is  freely  induced  and  the  men  rub  their 
bodies  with  urine,  which,  on  account  of  the 
ammonia  it  contains,  produces  a  lather.  Finally 
the  door  is  opened  and  all  rush  out  and  roll  in 
the  snow  in  evident  delight. 

The  kozgee,  it  will  be  seen,  serves  many  dif- 
ferent functions.  As  a  social  institution  it  is 
obviously  of  great  importance  and  worthy  of 
much  study.  It  is  the  common  property  of  the 
men  of  the  village  and  its  privileges  are  extended 
to  the  women  during  those  ceremonies  and  dances 
in  which  all  participate. 

There    are    many    interesting    things    which    I 

139 


observed  at  these  villages,  but  this  is  not  the 
place  to  record  them.  I  learned  of  many  more 
things  of  equal  or  even  greater  interest  which  I 
did  not  observe,  both  because  our  short  stay  of 
nine  days  afforded  me  small  opportunity  and 
more  particularly  because  the  time  for  making 
such  observations  is  the  winter  season. 

The  time  was  at  hand  when  we  must  resume 
our  journey  and  the  first  difficulty  that  now 
presented  itself  was  how  we  should  transport  the 
collections  we  had  made  which  were  now  too 
large  to  be  packed  in  the  canoe.  I  have  already 
mentioned  the  two  river  steamers  which  were  now 
being  laid  up  for  the  winter.  In  the  spring  they 
would  be  going  out  to  the  Yukon.  We  had 
decided  to  leave  the  bulk  of  our  collection  in  safe 
keeping  with  the  missionaries,  who  were  kind 
enough  to  promise  to  send  them  out  by  one  of 
these  steamers  in  the  spring.  However,  some- 
thing quite  unforeseen  happened  which  led  to  a 
change  of  plan. 

A  boat  appeared  one  day  coming  up  stream, 
driven  by  a  gasoline  engine  and  having  on  board 
three  men;  the  owner,  his  mate  and  his  engineer. 
They  had  come  from  Nome  on  a  trading  venture 
along  the  coast  and  before  returning  had  decided 
to  run  up  to  the  Bethel  Mission.  They  were 
140 


ready  to  start  on  the  return  trip.  Here  was  an 
opportunity  that  changed  the  outlook  and  made 
it  possible  to  reach  Nome  and  connect  there  with 
the  steamer  for  the  outside  instead  of  traveling 
to  St.  Michael  in  the  canoe  four  hundred  miles 
along  a  stormy  coast  as  we  had  planned.  Yet 
it  took  us  some  time  for  making  our  decision. 
We  were  most  reluctant,  for  one  thing,  to  give 
up  the  plan  already  formed,  which  promised  expe- 
riences of  a  novel  and  adventurous  nature  and  of 
a  kind  quite  different  from  those  afforded  by 
that  part  of  our  journey  which  we  had  completed. 

Our  canoe  had  served  us  well  on  our  river 
journey  and  we  believed  that  it  would  serve  us 
equally  well  on  the  salt  water.  There  were 
chances,  to  be  sure,  which  we  were  quite  aware 
of.  We  felt  that  we  could  for  the  most  part 
keep  close  in  shore,  but  we  knew  that  there  would 
be  wide  bays  and  stretches  of  exposed  water  to 
cross  and  we  might  get  caught  in  such  a  position 
in  a  storm.  Moreover,  the  season  of  high  winds 
and  equinoctial  gales  was  at  hand  and  we  already 
had  a  taste  of  their  quality,  but  we  had  expe- 
rienced nothing,  as  yet,  to  be  compared  with  the 
storms  we  met  later.  Neither  of  us  wanted  to 
leave  our  canoe,  and  we  both  wanted  to  finish 
the   trip  as  we  began   it.      On   the  other  hand, 

141 


neither  of  us  wanted  to  miss  the  last  steamer 
out  of  Bering  Sea.  We  talked  with  the  owner 
of  the  little  trading  boat  and  he  was  positive 
that,  as  he  proposed  to  stop  nowhere  on  the 
return,  the  journey  would  not  be  more  than 
five  days  long. 

This  decided  us.  We  had  been  allowing  fifteen 
days  for  the  journey,  but  there  were  so  many 
unknown  quantities  and  so  many  chances  to  take 
that  we  realized  we  might  miss  the  steamer  at 
St.  Michael.  We  therefore  decided  to  take  pas- 
sage with  the  trader  in  his  boat,  The  Hettie  B. 
As  our  troubles  began  the  moment  we  stepped 
aboard  this  unlucky  craft,  some  description 
of  her  will  help  to  an  understanding  of  what 
happened. 


142 


■ 


THE   AUTHOR    ON    THE    LOWER    Kl'SKOKWI.M 


CHAPTER   IX 
Shaking  Hands  with  the  Willows 

The  Hettie  B.  was  about  forty  feet  long  and  ten 
feet  of  beam  with  five  or  six  feet  of  depth.  She  had 
a  house  over  the  forward  two-thirds  of  her  length 
standing  two  or  three  feet  above  the  deck.  She 
had  a  small  mast  well  forward  and  carried  a  small 
sail.  She  had  a  little  gasoline  engine  and  as  a  part 
of  her  load  she  carried  about  thirty  cans  of  gasoline 
lashed  on  deck.  In  her  hold,  when  we  left  Bethel, 
she  had  a  store  of  furs  and  the  boxes  in  which  we 
had  packed  our  collections.  The  cargo  was 
stowed  in  such  a  way  that  it  formed  a  fairly 
level  surface  with  about  four  feet  in  the  clear 
between  it  and  the  roof  of  the  deck  house.  It 
was  so  disposed,  in  other  words,  that  we  could 
lie  down  or  sit  up,  but  the  only  place  we  could 
stand  upright  under  the  deck  house  was  the  after- 
part,  which  was  separated  from  the  rest  by  a 
bulkhead  and  in  which  the  little  engine  was 
installed.  Up  in  the  bows  was  a  window  with 
a  small  wheel  and  a  compass.  A  few  feet  of 
space  at  this  forward  part  were  left  clear  of  cargo 
to  give  standing  room  for  the  steersman. 

H3 


We  had  on  board  when  we  left  Bethel  the 
crew  of  three  men,  that  is  to  say,  the  owner,  who 
was  a  Norwegian  named  Houltberg;  Herman, 
his  partner  (also  a  Norwegian),  and  the  engineer, 
whom  everyone  called  Sparks  though  his  name 
was  Bachelder.  There  were,  besides  this  crew, 
five  passengers:  my  brother  and  I;  a  Jew  named 
Block  who  turned  up  at  the  Mission  and  seemed 
to  be  lost  generally  (he  was  working  his  passage 
in  the  capacity  of  cook) ;  a  Finn  named  Reeth, 
who  claimed  to  have  discovered  gold  not  far  from 
the  Mission  and  let  it  be  known  that  he  was 
going  out  to  the  United  States  to  get  capital  to 
work  his  mine;  Flaherty,  an  Irishman  and  captain 
of  one  of  the  river  boats  already  mentioned;  and 
a  strange  Swedish  person  named  Larsen.  This 
last  named  adventurer  had,  a  few  days  before, 
made  his  weird  arrival  in  the  most  unconventional 
craft  that  I  have  ever  seen.  It  was  simply  a 
piece  of  canvas  fastened  in  a  very  casual  way 
about  some  bent  willow  poles.  It  resembled 
more  than  anything  I  can  think  of  a  very  much 
improvised  bath  tub  a  little  longer  one  way  than 
the  other,  and  holding  together  either  by  sheer 
luck  or  else  by  some  form  of  innate  perversity 
that  upsets  all  theories  of  matter  and  flouts  the 
law  of  chance.  He  had  floated  down  the  Holik- 
144 


nuk,  according  to  his  story,  and  the  only  thing 
he  carried  was  a  Winchester  carbine  with  the 
barrel  hacked  off  about  a  foot  from  the  lock  and 
the  stock  amputated  as  well.  It  soon  became 
evident  that  he  had  been  "shaking  hands  with 
the  willows." 

The  last  expression  which  I  have  now  had 
occasion  to  use  more  than  once  needs  some  eluci- 
dation at  this  point.  It  often  happens  that  a 
prospector  or  trapper,  wandering  off  by  himself 
and  penetrating  deep  into  the  forest  in  pursuit 
of  some  fancied  El  Dorado  or  some  hunter's  para- 
dise, lives  for  months  and  even  years  without 
seeing  his  fellow  men.  Some  hardy  and  well 
balanced  minds  can  stand  it.  Others  experience 
varying  degrees  of  derangement,  and  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  North,  such  a  man  is  said  to  have 
been  shaking  hands  with  the  willows.  The  origin 
of  the  expression,  like  many  phrases  that  have 
enriched  our  language,  is  lost  in  obscurity.  Larsen 
had  been  shaking  hands  with  the  willows.  When 
he  found  that  I  had  a  camera  he  expressed  a 
desire  that  I  should  make  a  photograph  of  his 
head,  because,  as  he  explained,  he  had  n-rays 
that  proceeded  from  his  forehead  and  he  would 
like  to  see  them  in  a  photograph.  His  explana- 
tion  of  these   n-rays   was   somewhat  vague   but 

H5 


sufficiently  explicit  to  claim  for  himself  a  certain 
infallibility  in  the  pursuit  of  game.  The  n-rays 
directed  him  to  the  animals  and  held  them  bound 
as  by  a  spell  and  thus  enabled  him  to  walk  right 
up  close  to  them  and  shoot  them  with  his  gun. 
So  close  was  he  able  to  approach  a  moose,  for 
instance,  that  he  had  found  his  carbine  too  long 
and  that  was  why  he  had  hacked  it  off  at  both 
ends. 

On  September  9th  we  left  Bethel.  A  few  hours 
afterwards  I  asked  the  captain  to  put  me  ashore 
to  examine  a  deserted  village  that  I  saw  on  the 
bank.  It  had  evidently  been  abandoned  several 
years.  In  the  interiors  of  the  falling  huts  I  found 
various  implements  and  utensils  lying  about  and 
among  the  general  wreckage  were  scattered  the 
bones  of  the  people  that  had  died  in  their  homes 
with  none  to  bury  them.  Among  the  things  I 
took  away  were  a  number  of  skulls  that  I  col- 
lected for  scientific  use — I  mention  this  only  on 
account  of  an  incident  that  happened  later. 

It  was  not  long  after  we  left  this  place  that 
we  ran  on  a  bar.  We  were  now  in  tidal  water, 
which,  ebbing,  left  us  hopelessly  stuck.  We  all 
turned  in,  that  is  to  say,  six  of  us  lay  lengthwise 
on  the  cargo,  taking  up  all  the  space  afforded 
by  the  width  of  the  boat  and  lying  close.  One 
146 


of  our  number  had  room  to  lie  crosswise  at  the 
feet  of  the  six  and  Sparks  curled  up  in  a  corner 
beside  his  little  engine. 

No  watch  was  set,  a  mistake  on  the  part  of  the 
owner,  who  was  also  the  skipper.  During  the 
night  a  stiff  gale  blew  up  and  when  daylight 
came  we  found  that  the  flowing  tide  had  lifted 
us  from  the  bar  and  the  wind  had  driven  us 
ashore  and  we  were  high  up  among  the  bushes. 
By  hard  work  we  succeeded  in  getting  off  about 
noon.  Now  it  happened  that  the  second  river 
boat  that  I  have  mentioned  was  anchored  a  little 
farther  down,  looking  apparently  for  a  good 
place  to  lay  up  for  the  winter.  On  the  steamer 
was  a  man  named  Cornelius,  a  Californian,  who 
had  just  recovered  from  sickness  and  who  was 
anxious  to  get  out.  He  was  brought  over  in  the 
longboat  of  the  steamer  and  taken  aboard  our 
little  boat  as  an  additional  passenger.  This  made 
nine  people  on  our  already  crowded  craft. 

We  got  under  way  once  more,  but  had  hardly 
started  when  the  wind  got  blowing  so  that  we 
were  compelled  to  run  into  a  cove  and  drop  our 
anchor.  In  the  morning  we  started  again,  still 
towing  the  longboat  with  the  intention  of  drop- 
ping it  when  we  passed  the  steamer  to  which  it 
belonged,  but  this  longboat's  painter  got  foul  of 

147 


our  propeller,   so  we  dropped  anchor  again  and 
tried  to  clear  the  propeller,  but  could  not  do  so. 
Then  the  anchor  rope  broke  and  we  drifted  ashore 
on  a  high  tide  with  a  strong  wind  piling  the  water 
up  the  bank.     The  tide  went  out  and  next  morn- 
ing we  were  high  and  dry  right  up  among  the 
willows.       We    cleared    the    propeller,    recovered 
the  anchor  and  tried   to  get  the  boat  off  when 
the  tide  came  in.      She  was  stuck  so  fast  in  the 
mud,  however,  that  we  were  unable  to  move  her, 
so  we  spent  another  night  among  the  willows,  to 
await  the  next  high  tide  which  came  about  noon 
next  day.     Again  we  failed  and  again  the  tide  left 
us.     On  that  day,  shortly  after  noon,  I  told  my 
brother  I  was  going  to  have  a  look  at  the  country 
that  lay  behind  the  willows.      He  was  for  going 
with  me,  but  I  thought  it  better  that  one  of  us 
should  stay  by  the  boat.      Then  Sparks  volun- 
teered to  go  with  me.     I  took  a  pocket  compass 
and  a  shotgun.     A  hundred  yards  from  the  bank 
the  ground  fell  away,  became  very  soft,  and  we 
struck  across  an  oozy  mass  of  rank  moss  satu- 
rated with  water,  so  that  we  sank  to  our  knees, 
an  aggravated  form  of  niggerhead  and  muskeg. 
At  the  same  time  the  willows  ended  and  a  per- 
fectly flat  tundra  bare  of  bushes  stretched  to  the 
far  horizon,  with  numerous  miniature  lakes  and 
148 


ponds  in  every  direction.  I  took  a  compass 
bearing  and  followed  it,  with  only  such  deviations 
as  were  required  to  avoid  the  water.  Under 
foot  it  still  continued  soft  for  the  most  part, 
though  there  were  stretches  of  firmer  ground. 
In  spite  of  this  condition  we  were  able  to  make 
good  progress.  In  about  two  hours  we  came 
to  a  fairly  large  lake  where  we  saw  some  geese, 
but  they  kept  well  out  of  reach  and  there  was 
no  way  of  making  cover.  We  kept  on  for  another 
hour  and  saw  some  ducks  on  a  pond,  shot  two 
and  waited  for  them  to  drift  ashore.  Then,  as 
we  were  about  to  start  back,  we  saw  that  the 
distant  horizon  was  blotted  out  and  a  dense  fog 
bank  came  rolling  across  the  level  tundra.  With- 
out a  fog  we  had  absolutely  no  means  except  the 
compass  to  indicate  the  direction  or  to  guide  us 
on  the  level  and  confusing  mixture  of  oozy  land 
and  still  water.  The  only  difference  made  by 
the  fog  that  soon  enveloped  us  with  its  cold  grey 
mantle  was  that  it  made  it  difficult,  while  shaping 
our  course  by  the  compass,  to  avoid  the  standing 
water  which  in  places  had  the  dimensions  of 
small  lakes.  Sparks  was  a  little  man,  and  though 
he  did  his  best  with  his  legs,  I  had  frequently  to 
retard  my  pace  or  wait  for  him  to  come  up  before 
he  became  obliterated  in  the  fog.     Finally  it  got 

149 


so  dark  that  in  order  to  see  the  compass  I  had 
to  light  a  match  from  time  to  time.  It  occurred 
to  me  that  to  get  lost  on  that  tundra  and  have 
to  spend  the  night  would  be  excessively  uncom- 
fortable; there  was  nothing  with  which  to  make 
a  fire  and  there  was  no  place  dry  enough  to  lie 
down.  In  fact,  if  we  lay  on  the  wet  moss  the 
water  would  ooze  up  round  us.  It  was  some 
relief  when  we  struck  the  willows  again  and  the 
elevated  rim  of  the  river  that  afforded  firm  footing. 
A  little  later  we  came  out  on  the  river  bank  right 
on  top  of  the  boat.  By  luck  and  close  attention 
to  the  compass,  we  had  directed  our  course  straight 
for  our  starting  point  in  spite  of  the  numerous 
deflections  owing  to  the  confusing  ponds.  Sparks 
made  a  long  and,  to  do  him  justice,  a  thrilling 
story  of  our  adventure  for  the  general  entertain- 
ment. He  stated  with  emphasis  that  I  had 
walked  his  dam'd  legs  off,  that  he  never  expected 
to  see  the  dam'd  boat  again  and  that  he  would 
undergo  a  similar  engineering  operation  if  he 
knew  how  I  had  found  my  way  back.  Whatever 
I  might  have  felt  about  the  rest  of  his  story,  I 
was  entirely  of  his  mind  about  the  conclusion; 
but  I  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  let  this  be 
known.  We  stewed  the  ducks  and  found  them  so 
fishy  that  they  had  to  be  rejected,  which  was  a 

150 


sad  blow  to  our  pride,  especially  for  Sparks,  who 
had  had  a  good  deal  to  say  about  our  knowledge 
of  game  and  our  skill  as  sportsmen. 

Next  morning  my  brother  took  the  longboat 
down  to  the  steamer  and  borrowed  some  tools 
in  order  to  get  us  afloat.  He  soon  returned  with 
some  picks  and  shovels.  With  these  he  put  us 
ail  to  work  digging  a  deep  canal  from  the  bow 
of  the  boat  (she  had  gone  up  the  bank  stern 
first)  out  across  the  tide  flats  to  deeper  water. 
When  the  tide  came  in  later  in  the  day  we  were 
able  to  float  her  out  through  this  canal.  Other- 
wise I  suppose  we  might  be  there  still. 

We  now  started  out  afresh  in  good  weather 
and  soon  passed  the  steamer,  which  still  had  her 
captain  aboard,  and  left  the  longboat.  The  river 
soon  widened  into  an  estuary  some  miles  in  width. 
In  the  evening  we  were  about  five  miles  off  the 
large  Eskimo  village  of  Quinhagak;  we  ran  on 
a  bar  in  a  rapidly  falling  tide  and  got  stuck. 
At  this  place  there  was  a  branch  of  the  Bethel 
Mission.  Next  morning  when  the  tide  was  high 
we  floated  off  and  ran  towards  the  village.  When 
we  were  half  a  mile  off  we  again  got  on  a  bar. 
When  the  tide  went  out  it  left  us  dry  and  we 
could  walk  to  the  village. 

Getting  on  this  last  bar  was  a  piece  of  good 

IS' 


fortune  to  which  in  all  probability  we  owed  our 
lives.  It  was  a  sand-bar  and  as  the  boat  lay 
over  on  her  side  we  could  examine  her  keel  and 
all  of  her  joints.  We  found  that  the  heavy  iron 
shoe  that  was  spiked  to  the  keel  at  the  stern  and 
that  supported  the  rudder,  had  come  loose.  If 
we  had  gone  to  sea  without  discovering  this  con- 
dition and  repairing  it,  we  could  easily  have  lost 
our  rudder  in  the  first  rough  sea  we  struck.  It 
took  us  two  days  to  make  these  repairs.  This 
gave  me  time  to  visit  the  village  and  make  the 
acquaintance  of  the  natives  as  well  as  of  the 
missionary,  Mr.  Schoechert,  an  energetic  and 
intelligent  man,  who,  with  his  wife,  were  most 
kind  and  helpful. 

The  tundra  about  Quinhagak  is  somewhat  higher 
and  drier  than  many  parts  I  had  seen.  During 
my  walks  of  the  two  days  spent  there,  I  had  had 
opportunities  of  observing  it.  I  do  not  think 
that  there  can  be  anything  on  earth  more  forlorn 
and  desolate  than  the  tundra.  It  is  level  like 
the  sea  and  has  just  enough  undulation  to  sug- 
gest waves;  one  catches  a  glint  that  suggests 
water  at  intervals  on  the  skyline;  there  is  every- 
where a  rank  smell,  and  all  around  is  moss.  Such 
a  description  sounds  like  the  end  of  desolation 
and  monotony,  and  yet  when  I  looked  over  that 
152 


wide  stretch  of  tundra  at  Quinhagak,  I  was  aware 
that  it  had  a  beauty  and  fascination  of  its  own. 
It  was  September  and  the  different  mosses  were 
all  different  colors,  soft  reds  and  yellows  and 
browns  and  greys.  In  that  blending  of  color 
consisted  the  beauty  of  the  tundra  in  September. 

On  Sunday,  the  15th  of  September,  we  were 
off  again,  this  time  heading  right  out  to  sea  with 
Nunivak  Island  on  our  starboard  and  a  bold 
promontory  called  Cape  Newenham  on  our  port. 
As  night  came  on  it  came  up  to  blow,  the  sea 
became  rough  and  the  engine  got  working  very 
badly.  We  put  up  the  sail  and  shaped  a  course 
to  clear  the  island  and  the  shoals  and  to  get  well 
out  to  deep  water  where  we  could  shape  a  straight 
course  to  Nome. 

Night  came  on  pitch  dark,  the  wind  blew  harder, 
the  sea  became  rougher,  we  were  tossed  about 
and  the  engine  stopped  working  altogether.  We 
did  the  best  we  could  with  the  sail,  steering  by 
the  compass,  and  trying  to  work  out  to  sea  and 
clear  the  land  and  possible  rocks  and  shoals. 
We  passed  a  rough  night  and  when  morning  came 
we  found  ourselves  abreast  of  Nunivak  Island, 
having  drifted  all  night.  We  had  been  steering 
a  straight  course  well  up  in  the  wind  and  we 
had  been  carried   rapidly  by  wind  and  current 

153 


nearly  at  right  angles  to  our  course  and  were 
nearly  thrown  on  the  land.  Houltberg  picked 
out  a  cove  on  the  coast  of  Nunivak  Island  and 
in  running  for  its  shelter  narrowly  escaped  a 
sunken  rock.  It  was  Flaherty  who  saw  the  dan- 
ger and  swung  the  boat  just  in  time  to  save  it. 
The  island  is  rocky  and  has  one  considerable 
elevation  which,  after  the  tundra,  might  properly 
be  called  a  mountain.  Mac  and  I  climbed  this 
and  from  its  top  surveyed  practically  the  whole 
island.  We  could  see  no  inhabitants,  though  on 
our  way  we  saw  an  old  ruined  village  of  con- 
siderable size. 


154 


CHAPTER  X 
Adrift  on  Bering  Sea 

We  filled  the  water  cask  from  a  spring  and 
started  out  to  sea  in  the  afternoon,  the  weather 
having  moderated  and  Sparks  having  satisfied 
himself  that  his  engine  could  be  persuaded  to 
work.  During  the  rest  of  that  day  and  all  that 
night  things  went  well  enough.  Next  day,  how- 
ever, the  wind  rose.  It  blew  from  the  southeast 
and  before  noon  a  storm  was  raging.  The  engines 
stopped  working  altogether  and  even  before  they 
quit  we  were  making  no  headway,  for  the  pro- 
peller was  half  the  time  out  of  the  water,  and 
even  with  the  help  of  the  sail  she  got  no  steerage 
way.  The  boat  lay  in  the  trough,  broadside  to 
the  seas.  If  she  had  not  been  a  very  stout  boat 
she  must  have  gone  to  pieces.  Each  time  that 
she  dropped  into  the  trough  and  the  next  great 
wave  hung  above  her  with  its  crest  torn  by  the 
wind,  it  seemed  that  the  sea  was  about  to  fall 
on  top  of  her,  but  each  time  she  rose,  broadside, 
reeling  and  tossing  to  be  sure,  but  giving  a  remark- 
able account  of  herself  in  a  heavy  sea. 

For  four  days  and  four  nights  the  storm  blew 

155 


without  any  intermission.  Meanwhile,  we  were 
drifting  far  out  into  Bering  Sea,  perfectly  helpless. 

Now,  to  the  general  discomfort,  there  was  added 
an  unpleasant  incident  that  illustrated  a  dismal 
side  of  human  nature — superstitious  fear.  No 
objection  had  been  made  to  the  Eskimo  skulls 
when  they  were  brought  aboard.  However,  on 
the  day  we  left  Quinhagak,  Larsen,  the  man  with 
the  n-rays  in  his  head,  who  had  been  shaking 
hands  with  the  willows,  announced  his  decision 
not  to  trust  himself  at  sea  in  company  with  those 
skulls.  He  therefore  left  the  boat  and  predicted 
that  we  would  all  be  drowned  in  Bering  Sea. 
This  suggestion  of  a  crazy  man  was  enough  to 
disturb  the  weaker  minds.  They  had  evidently 
dwelt  upon  it  in  secret  until  they  became  con- 
vinced that  the  skulls  of  dead  Eskimo  in  the 
bottom  of  the  hold  were  the  cause  of  our  bad 
luck.  It  came  out  suddenly  from  Cornelius,  the 
Californiaji,  who  was  supported  by  Reeth,  the 
Finn,  and  Block,  the  Jew.  Flaherty,  the  Irish 
sailorman,  was  probably  not  without  some  super- 
stition of  his  own,  but  he  could  not  abide  the 
Jew  and  if  he  was  going  to  be  drowned  he  would 
take  care  at  least  that  he  would  not  be  caught 
in  that  kind  of  company. 

From  the  start  there  had  been  a  feud  between 

IS6 


these  two.  Without  giving  any  special  cause  for 
offense  so  far  as  I  was  aware,  Block  was  the 
object  and  the  victim  of  Flaherty's  open  and 
undisguised  hostility.  The  Irishman  had  promptly 
invented  a  name  for  the  Jew  which,  whatever 
merits  it  may  have  had  otherwise,  was  open  to 
the  objection  that  it  is  unprintable.  The  Jew 
on  his  part  retaliated,  less  aggressively  to  be  sure, 
but  with  just  enough  spirit  to  keep  the  Irishman 
occupied. 

Now  when  Block  added  his  voice  to  the  dark 
counsel  of  fear  and  superstition,  Flaherty  found 
in  this  act  a  new  cause  for  offense  which  he  resented 
in  the  most  vigorous  manner,  and  with  great 
volubility.  He  did  not  offer  any  opinion  on  the 
merits  of  the  case.  The  attack  which  he  launched 
was  directed  in  the  broadest  and  most  impartial 
way  against  the  physical,  mental  and  moral  qual- 
ities generally  of  the  unfortunate  Block,  who  had 
neither  the  size,  courage  nor  facility  of  speech 
requisite  for  effective  retaliation. 

When  this  diversion  had  subsided  the  subject 
of  the  skulls  was  soon  resumed,  chiefly  by  Cor- 
nelius, seconded  by  Reeth.  These  men  were  not 
only  serious  but  were  becoming  desperately  in 
earnest  as  the  storm  became  fiercer  and  our 
plight  apparently  more  hopeless.      I   thought  it 

157 


wisest  to  make  light  of  the  matter,  but  the  thing 
would  not  down;  it  kept  reviving  until  it  was 
easy  to  see  that  the  minds  of  all  were  becoming 
affected  by  the  same  thought  and  fear.  It  was 
becoming  awkward  and  I  did  not  know  how  it 
would  end  if  the  storm  kept  up  for  many  days. 
Mac  and  I,  by  way  of  privacy,  lay  on  one  occa- 
sion face  down  along  the  roof  of  the  deck  house, 
maintaining  our  position  by  clinging  to  the  cleats 
and  their  lashings  while  the  seas  broke  over  us. 
I  confided  to  my  brother  that  I  should  have 
objections  to  being  made  to  play  the  part  of 
Jonah.  He  replied  that  he  felt  it  would  be 
exceedingly  awkward  in  the  circumstances,  because 
there  were  very  few  whales  left  in  Bering  Sea 
owing  to  the  activity  of  the  whaling  industry. 

We  then  took  advantage  of  an  opportunity  and 
took  the  skipper  into  our  confidence.  I  told  him 
that  I  was  quite  ready  to  put  the  bones  over- 
board if  in  his  judgment  the  occasion  demanded  it. 
Houltberg  replied  that  the  cargo  of  the  boat  was 
entirely  in  his  charge  and  he  would  take  care  of 
it.  He  then  took  Flaherty  into  the  council,  and 
he  gave  his  word  that  he  could  be  counted  on  in 
the  event  of  any  trouble.  When  the  next  word 
was  said  on  the  subject  of  the  skulls  the  skipper 
announced  that  he  was  tired  of  hearing  nonsense 
158 


which  required  several  qualifying  phrases.  More- 
over, this  boat  belonged  to  him,  he  was  in  charge 
of  the  damned  outfit  and  he  would  see  it  all  in 
hell  before  he  would  listen  any  longer  to  the  talk 
of  the  people  who  had  evidently  been  shaking 
hands  with  the  willows.  He  was  thoroughly  in 
earnest  and  his  manner  of  speaking  had  the  right 
effect,  for  the  subject  of  the  skulls  never  came 
up  again. 

On  the  fifth  day  the  storm  abated  and  a  heavy 
swell  followed  the  subsidence  of  the  huge  waves 
that  had  tossed  and  pounded  us  for  five  days. 
After  much  persuasion  the  little  engine  was 
started  going  and  we  struggled  along  slowly  and 
laboriously  on  the  swell.  The  compass  had 
been  smashed  by  a  sea  that  carried  away  the 
stout  sash  in  front  of  the  binnacle.  The  course 
steered  was  arrived  at  by  guesswork  and  by  the 
position  of  the  sun.  It  was  impossible  to  tell 
how  far  we  might  have  drifted  during  the  five 
days  of  storm  and  therefore  our  position  was 
indeterminate.  That  night  the  boat  was  steered 
by  the  pole  star  which,  attended  by  the  dipper, 
hung  high  in  the  heavens.  In  the  morning  what 
appeared  to  be  a  long  low  coast  line  lay  on  our 
port,  that  is,  to  the  northwest.  The  appearance 
of  land  in  that  direction  was  a  surprise,  for  it 

159 


would  indicate  that  we  had  drifted  at  least  as 
far  as  St.  Lawrence  Island,  or  perhaps  even  as 
far  as  the  Siberian  shore.  As  the  sun  rose  the 
features  of  the  coast  stood  out  clearly  and  dis- 
tinctly, apparently  about  three  miles  away.  We 
changed  our  course  and  ran  towards  it.  We 
continued  on  this  course  without  apparently  get- 
ting any  nearer  land  and  concluded  that  owing 
to  some  atmospheric  condition  we  had  miscalcu- 
lated the  distance.  There  lay  the  land  as  plain 
as  could  be  and  still  the  same  distance  away  as 
when  first  seen.  It  was  uncanny.  Suddenly  the 
landscape  broke  up  and  vanished  into  nothing 
and  we  knew  that  we  had  been  deceived  by  a 
mirage. 

By  noon  on  that  day,  September  the  25th,  it 
began  to  blow  once  more  from  the  southwest, 
and  by  night  the  storm  was  upon  us  again  with 
greater  violence  than  ever.  Again  the  engine 
stopped  and  again  we  lay  broadside  to  the  seas 
that  walloped  us  unmercifully.  The  rations  now 
began  to  run  short.  We  had  left  still  some 
smoked  salmon,  some  ship's  biscuit,  some  beans 
and  a  little  coffee.  Worst  of  all,  our  cask  of 
water  was  getting  low.  Each  man  was  now 
allowed  a  small  piece  of  salmon,  one  ship's  biscuit 
and  a  cup  of  weak  coffee  in  the  morning  and  the 
160 


same  at  night  with  the  addition  of  a  few  boiled 
beans.  In  the  middle  of  the  day  each  of  us 
had  a  cup  of  water.  From  the  constant  batter- 
ing, several  seams  about  the  waterline  were  open- 
ing and  admitting  the  sea.  This  we  were  able 
to  stop  by  constant  and  repeated  calking  on  the 
inside. 

This  storm  lasted  four  days  and  when  it  was 
over  we  had  finished  all  our  provisions  except  a 
few  beans.  Worse  still,  we  had  used  up  all  the 
water.  Everyone  had  become  very  much  de- 
pressed during  these  days.  Even  Flaherty  and 
Block  forgot  their  animosity  to  the  extent  at 
least  of  ignoring  each  other's  existence,  and  that 
was  something  of  an  achievement,  considering 
that  in  our  cramped  quarters  they  could  not 
avoid  physical  contact.  The  fresh  water  was 
gone,  and  the  handful  of  beans,  the  last  remnant 
of  our  provisions,  were  raw.  Block,  in  his  capacity 
of  cook,  undertook  to  boil  them  in  sea  water. 
The  longer  he  boiled  them,  the  harder  they  got, 
and  when  he  got  through  they  were  like  small 
pebbles. 

I  cannot  remember  that  we  suffered  very  severely 
on  account  of  the  lack  of  food.  The  want  of 
water  was  more  serious,  but  that  was  not  so  bad 
as  it  might  have  been.     Our  clothes  were  damp 

161 


all  the  time  and  the  weather  was  growing  cold. 
On  the  last  day  the  spray  began  to  freeze.  We 
were  so  hardened  that  we  felt  the  cold  remarkably 
little. 

On  the  morning  of  the  29th  of  September  the 
gale  had  blown  itself  out  and  we  ran  all  that  day 
and  night  and  all  of  the  following  day  in  the  direc- 
tion which  we  supposed  would  take  us  to  Nome 
or  some  adjacent  part  of  the  Alaskan  coast. 
On  the  morning  of  the  1st  of  October  we  saw 
land  ahead  and  early  on  that  day  we  ran  into 
a  bay  under  the  lee  of  a  high  rocky  promontory. 
This,  by  studying  a  chart  that  we  had  on  board, 
we  soon  recognized  as  Cape  Darby  on  the  East 
of  Golovin  Bay  in  Norton  Sound  and  we  were 
still  a  long  way  from  Nome.  All  day  we  ran  along 
the  coast  westward  in  fair  weather.  Near  mid- 
night we  rounded  a  high  cape  and  saw  right  ahead 
the  lights  of  Nome.  They  were  electric  lights  at 
that.  High  above  the  rest  there  stood  out  a 
flaming  cross.  In  the  absence  of  a  lighthouse 
the  Roman  Catholic  Church  at  Nome  had  erected 
a  large  wooden  cross  on  top  of  the  spire  and 
illuminated  it  with  electric  lights  to  guide  ships 
approaching  the  shore  at  night.  We  were  just 
twenty-two  days  from  Bethel  and  five  days  had 
been  allowed  for  the  journey.  We  found  that 
162 


the  last  steamer  was  very  late  and  we  had  two 
weeks  to  wait  at  Nome.  It  was  now  freezing 
hard  and  ice  was  forming  inshore.  We  spent 
the  time  comfortably  enough  at  getting  cleaned 
up  and  eating  everything  in  sight  to  make  up 
for  our  short  rations  on  The  Hettie  B. 

I  have  forgotten  the  name  of  the  steamer  that 
made  the  last  trip  that  season  from  Nome  to 
Seattle,  but  she  was,  I  believe,  lost  in  the  fol- 
lowing year  off  Puget  Sound.  Our  voyage  from 
Nome  to  Seattle  took  twelve  days  and  it  was  a 
rough  passage.  The  captain  was  sick  and  the 
ship  was  in  charge  of  the  first  officer.  We  arrived 
at  Puget  Sound  by  night  in  a  thick  fog.  The 
next  morning  the  fog  still  hung  heavy  and  the 
engines  were  stopped.  After  the  fog  lifted  a  bit 
we  began  to  go  ahead.  The  mate  lost  his  reckon- 
ing and  as  the  fog  cleared,  he  hailed  a  tug  boat 
and  found  that  he  had  turned  completely  about 
and  was  running  in  the  wrong  direction.  The 
captain  died  that  day,  before  we  reached  the 
pier. 

It  had  been  a  rough  voyage  in  every  way,  the 
crew  were  rough  and,  in  the  absence  of  the  cap- 
tain's authority,  were  in  a  state  of  half  mutiny; 
the  food  was  rough  and  in  the  middle  of  the 
voyage   the  cook  went  on  a  strike  and  we  were 

163 


served  with  cold  things  out  of  tins.  After  two 
days  in  irons  the  cook  decided  to  go  back  to 
work.  Then  there  was  a  row  among  a  crowd  of 
gamblers  in  the  smoking  room.  It  became  so 
bad  that  the  mate  tried  to  interfere,  only  to  find 
himself  in  danger,  for  they  threatened  to  put  him 
overboard,  and  he  could  not  trust  his  vile  rabble 
of  a  crew. 

It  was  settled  after  a  while  without  bloodshed, 
but  the  game  went  on  with  frequent  outbreaks 
until  we  reached  Seattle.  We  were  glad  to  get 
off  that  boat.  Indeed,  from  the  time  we  reached 
Bethel  at  the  mouth  of  the  Kuskokwim  till  we 
reached  Seattle,  and  for  that  matter  for  a  long 
time  afterwards  we  never  ceased  to  long  for  our 
good  canoe  that  we  had  built  ourselves  and  in 
which  we  had  passed  so  many  good  and  agree- 
able days,  and  which  had  carried  us  a  thousand 
miles  across  a  country  that  was  still  a  wilderness. 

The  pleasure  that  is  derived  from  such  an 
excursion  as  I  have  described,  or  from  any  journey 
that  brings  one  into  close  contact  with  the  wilds, 
is  the  most  lasting  in  human  experience,  for  as 
time  goes  on  memory  adheres  with  affection  to 
each  favored  event,  dismissing  all  the  hard,  un- 
welcome facts,  translating  the  discomforts  into 
positive  enjoyment  and  turning  her  countenance 
164 


away  from  all  disturbing  details.  This  soothing 
trick  of  the  mind  in  deleting  from  its  tablets  each 
jarring  record  and  inscribing  the  rest  in  purple 
and  gold,  is  known  only  to  men  who  have  hit 
the  lonely  trails.  It  does  not  hold  in  everyday 
life  and  it  may  not  be  invoked  by  any  conscious 
effort.  It  is  a  solace  that  Nature  prescribes 
through  some  sweet  influence  of  her  own  for 
those  who,  escaping  from  the  tyrannical  toils  of 
city  life,  seek  comfort  in  her  rough  ways. 

Every  man  who  has  tried  it  knows  that  camp 
life  is  the  best,  but  not  all  have  lived  it,  as  I 
have  done,  under  the  best  conditions.  To  be 
at  its  best,  camp  life  must  be  shared  by  two 
men  and  no  more.  To  be  at  its  best  there  must 
be,  between  these  two,  the  perfect  mutual  faith 
that  removes  not  only  mountains  but  mole  hills, 
and  that,  while  distinguishing  the  separate  and 
independent  personality  of  each,  enables  them 
to  act  together  as  one.  These  two  may  be 
brothers  or  they  may  come  from  the  ends  of 
the  earth,  but  when  the  occasion  arrives,  each 
is  ready  to  give  his  life  for  the  other  as  a  matter 
of  course.  No  matter  what  difficulties  may  be 
encountered  or  what  hardships  endured,  camp  life 
under  these  conditions  is  the  best  life  there  is. 

Having  known  it,  therefore,  at  its  best  on  many 

165 


proven  trails,  the  two  men  whose  life  in  camp 
during  one  brief  Alaskan  summer  is  recorded 
here,  turned  again  with  each  succeeding  year 
more  longingly  to  their  abandoned  fires  on  the 
sand-bars  and  in  the  swamps  along  the  lonely 
rivers  of  the  North.  Forgotten  were  the  dis- 
comforts, forgotten  the  weariness,  the  exposure, 
the  hunger  and  the  thirst— they  remembered  the 
glittering  pageant  of  glorified  days  and  the  deep 
enfolding  shadows  of  the  magic  nights;  they 
remembered  the  healing  labor,  the  well  earned 
rest,  the  close  companionship  and  the  sound, 
dreamless  sleep. 

The  years  that  have  passed  since  then  are  filled 
with  great  and  terrible  events  and  the  world  has 
been  so  changed  that  the  simple  pleasures  of  the 
time  that  was  are  like  a  gorgeous  dream,  a  happy 
"vision  of  fulfilled  desire."  There  is  a  certain 
cold  and  melancholy  comfort  in  the  act  of  writ- 
ing them  down  to  prove  that  they  were  once  a 
reality. 


1 66 


canoe  construction;   kelson,  stem  and  stern  posts  and  sheer 
stakes  in  position.    temporary  supports  in  the  center 


CANOE   CONSTRUCTION;     DIAGRAM   ILLUSTRATING   DETAILS   OF  THE 
FINISHED   CANOE 


CANOE   CONSTRUCTION;    DIAGRAM   SHOWING   THE   RIBS   IN   POSITION 


APPENDIX  A 

Canoe  Construction 

For  readers  who  may  be  interested  and  who  may 
have  occasion  to  build  a  canoe  under  similar  cir- 
cumstances, I  give  here  the  details  of  construction 
for  the  canoe  which  we  built  at  Fairbanks. 

Our  first  step  was  to  go  into  the  woods  and 
select  two  dead  spruce  trees  about  five  inches  in 
diameter,  with  a  spring  at  the  bottom  terminating 
in  a  stout  root  leading  to  one  side.  These,  being 
dug  out  of  the  ground  and  the  lower  section  of  the 
trunk  cut  off,  furnished  the  stem  and  the  stern. 
Each  of  us  selected  one  tree  trunk  and  we  worked 
over  them  till  we  had  them  hewn  to  the  proper 
size  and  shape.  The  next  step  was  to  procure  the 
ribs,  and  having  located  the  dump  where  the  min- 
ing town  disposed  of  its  refuse,  we  stripped  the 
hoops  from  a  number  of  empty  flour  barrels, 
trimmed  them  up  a  bit  and  the  ribs  were  ready. 

In  exactly  seven  days  from  the  time  we  started 
to  assemble  our  materials,  the  canoe  was  ready  for 
launching.  The  building  of  it  was  simple  enough 
and  the  essential  steps  in  this  process  were  as 
follows.  The  length  of  the  canoe  was  to  be  twenty 
feet.      The  stem  and  the  stern  posts  which  we 

167 


hewed  out  of  the  tree  trunks  were  fitted  to  the  ends 
of  a  kelson  and  spiked  firmly  down.  The  two 
strips  to  form  the  sheer  strakes  were  fitted  flush 
to  these  at  the  proper  height  and  given  their 
proper  spread  in  the  center  to  make  the  width  of 
the  canoe.  To  depress  the  center  and  give  the 
sides  of  the  canoe  a  proper  sheer,  it  was  only- 
necessary  to  fasten  a  temporary  crosspiece  between 
them,  and  to  insert  another  temporary  fixture 
cut  to  the  proper  height  between  this  crosspiece 
and  the  kelson.  These  two  temporary  supports 
fixed  the  width  at  the  center  and  held  the  sheer 
strakes  in  their  doubly  bent  position  while  the 
canoe  was  being  built. 

The  next  step  was  to  put  the  ribs  in  position. 
The  barrel  hoops  were  soaked  in  water  to  make 
them  more  pliable.  The  center  ribs  were  put  in 
place  first.  They  were  slipped  under  the  kelson 
five  inches  apart  and  the  ends  brought  up  outside 
the  sheer  strakes,  to  which  they  were  lightly 
tacked.  All  the  other  ribs  were  put  in  position 
in  the  same  way  five  inches  apart.  The  adjust- 
ing of  the  ribs  to  a  proper  length  and  curve  was 
the  task  which  required  some  pains,  for  upon  this 
the  regularity  and  trimness  of  her  lines  would 
depend.  We  were  building  a  canoe  that  would 
not  only  stand  any  kind  of  water  that  might  be 
168 


encountered  on  the  rivers,  but  that  would  be  fit 
for  sea  work  as  well. 

We  had  selected  some  dry  spruce  timber  free 
from  knots  and  at  the  sawmill  we  had  these  sawed 
up  into  quarter  inch  boards  about  four  inches 
wide.  To  fit  these  boards  to  the  ribs  and  fasten 
each  piece  firmly  in  its  place  to  form  the  inner 
skin  of  the  canoe  was  the  most  exacting  part  of 
our  work.  We  cut  and  shaped  each  piece  to  fit 
its  particular  place  on  the  bottom  and  sides,  and 
each  strip  was  made  to  overlap  completely  the 
stem  and  stern,  to  which  all  were  fastened,  as 
well  as  to  the  ribs,  with  copper  tacks.  Any 
irregularities  about  the  seams  were  afterwards 
planed  off  to  make  a  smooth  and  even  surface  for 
the  canvas  that  was  to  form  the  outer  skin. 

Stretching  the  canvas  over  this  inner  skin  of 
thin  planks  was  an  operation  requiring  some  care, 
since  it  must  fit  snugly  at  all  points  and  be  water- 
tight. 

With  the  canoe  in  an  inverted  position,  raised 
about  two  feet  from  the  ground,  we  spread  the 
sheet  of  canvas  over  it,  and  working  one  at  each 
side  seized  the  two  edges  at  the  exact  center  and 
drew  it  taut.  While  it  was  held  firmly  in  this 
position  each  fastened  his  point  with  a  copper 
tack  to  the  sheer  strake.     Seizing  each  side  again 

169 


a  few  inches  from  the  first  tack  we  stretched  the 
canvas  again  and  tacked  another  point.  In  this 
way  we  worked  in  both  directions  from  the  center 
towards  the  ends.  After  proceeding  about  one- 
third  way  in  either  direction  from  the  center,  it 
was  no  longer  possible  to  draw  the  canvas  taut 
without  making  folds,  owing  to  the  narrowing 
body  of  the  canoe.  Therefore  we  let  the  increasing 
slack  take  care  of  itself  until  we  had  tacked  the 
edges  to  the  sheer  strakes  from  end  to  end.  That 
being  done  the  slack  was  taken  up  by  splitting 
the  canvas  along  the  bottom  line  for  one-third  the 
distance  from  each  end,  cutting  out  a  long  narrow 
V  shaped  piece  and  bringing  the  edges  together 
along  the  center  line.  These  edges  having  been 
tacked  down,  we  had  a  snug  fitting  canvas  skin 
covering  the  entire  canoe. 

At  the  ends  the  canvas  was  turned  in  front  of 
the  stem  and  stern,  the  edges  brought  together 
and  fastened  by  two  rows  of  tacks.  These  edges 
had  to  be  pitched,  but  there  remained  the  finishing 
of  the  gunwales  where  the  canvas  was  as  yet  only 
tacked  on  the  outside. 

Turning  the  canoe  right  side  up,  we  folded  the 
slack  edge  of  the  canvas  completely  over  the  sheer 
strakes  and  securely  fastened  it  down  by  a  row  of 
copper  tacks  on  the  inside.  To  protect  the  canvas 
170 


canoe  construction;  diagram  showing  the  planks  in 
position 


canoe  construction;   diagram  showing  the  canvas  skin,  the 
gunwales,  the  flat  keel  and  the  finished  bow 


at  this  point,  and  stiffen  the  sides,  we  bent  a  pair 
of  gunwales  and  fastened  them  securely  to  the  out- 
side of  the  sheer  strakes. 

After  that  we  boiled  rosin  with  tallow  in  a 
frying  pan  over  a  fire  and  pitched  the  seams  in  the 
canvas  at  the  bottom  and  at  the  ends.  We  also 
added  a  keel,  a  strip  of  spruce  three-quarters  of  an 
inch  thick  and  four  inches  wide,  laid  flat  and  nailed 
firmly  through  the  canvas  and  inner  skin  into  the 
kelson.  This  was  very  important  as  a  protection 
for  the  canvas  when  the  canoe  scraped  over  rocks 
or  was  dragged  up  the  beach. 

The  ends  were  still  unfinished  and  to  make  them 
as  they  should  be,  both  as  a  protection  to  the 
canvas  and  to  give  them  a  sharp  finish,  we  went 
again  to  the  woods  and  each  cut  out  a  section  from 
the  trunks  of  a  pair  of  small  spruce  trees  with 
springing  roots.  These  we  hewed  down  with  the 
axes  and  shaped  to  the  curving  ends  of  the  canoe, 
where  they  were  securely  fastened  by  nails  driven 
into  the  stem  and  stern  posts. 

A  pair  of  strips  three-quarters  of  an  inch  thick 
and  an  inch  and  a  half  wide  were  placed  against 
the  ribs  on  the  inside  six  inches  from  the  top  and 
running  the  whole  length  on  either  side.  The 
purpose  of  these  was  both  to  stiffen  the  structure 
and  to  give  a  rest  for  the  thwarts.     Three  thwarts 

171 


were  inserted  and  these  were  made  of  dried  spruce 
seven-eighths  of  an  inch  thick  and  eight  inches 
wide. 

A  stout  cross  piece  was  inserted  near  the  bow, 
flush  with  the  gunwales,  and  bored  through  at 
the  center.  Directly  below  this  a  block  was 
fastened  securely  to  the  kelson  and  in  this  a  socket 
was  cut.  The  purpose  of  this  arrangement  was  to 
enable  us  to  step  a  mast  if  we  ever  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  using  a  sail,  for  we  made  a  sprit  sail  of 
light  canvas.  A  little  flush  deck  about  eighteen 
inches  long  was  built  in  the  stern  to  serve  as  a 
seat  for  the  steersman,  and  a  pair  of  planks  were 
fitted  in  the  bottom  at  either  side  of  the  kelson 
to  receive  the  weight  of  the  cargo  and  protect  it 
from  any  water  which  we  might  chance  to  ship. 

The  outside  was  given  three  coats  of  paint  and 
our  canoe  was  ready  for  launching.  From  the 
time  that  we  began  to  assemble  the  materials 
till  the  last  coat  of  paint  was  laid  was  just  seven 
days.  We  had  a  canoe  in  which  we  could  go  any- 
where. It  weighed  180  pounds  and  it  was  entirely 
the  work  of  our  own  hands,  which  added  greatly 
to  our  pleasure  and  satisfaction. 

Table  of  Distances 
During  the  journey  between  Fairbanks  on  the 
172 


Tanana  and  the  mouth  of  the  Kuskokwim  we  kept 
an  accurate  record  of  the  run  each  day.  On  the 
basis  of  these  runs,  taken  in  connection  with  the 
currents  in  the  rivers,  the  distances  were  estimated. 
Between  Fairbanks  and  the  mouth  of  the 
Kantishna,  running  with  the  current,  our  rate  of 
travel  was  about  five  miles  an  hour.  From  the 
mouth  of  the  Kantishna  to  its  fork  we  traveled 
against  the  current  at  about  one  and  a  half  miles 
per  hour.  From  the  fork  to  Lake  Minchumina 
our  rate  was  reckoned  at  two  miles  per  hour. 
From  the  Portage  to  the  mouth  of  the  Kuskokwim 
our  rate  averaged  five  miles  an  hour  on  the  differ- 
ent stretches  of  the  river.  According  to  these 
calculations  the  distances  were  as  follows. 

Hours  Miles 

Fairbanks  to  the  Kantishna 27  135 

The  mouth  of  the  Kantishna  to  its 

fork 101J  152 

Kantishna    Fork    to    Lake    Min- 
chumina       37  74 

Distance  across  Lake  Minchumina     . .  12 

The  Portage 10 

From  the  Portage  to  the  Upper 

Istna  mouth 60  300 

Upper  Istna  mouth  to  the  Keklone      6  30 

Upper  Istna  mouth  to  the  Tacotna     i6|  82 

173 


Hours  Miles 
Upper  Istna  mouth  to  the  Holik- 

nuk 46  230 

From  the  Holiknuk  to  Kolmakoff.      18J  92 

From  Kolmakoff  to  Ogovik n  55 

From  Ogovik  to  Mamtrelich i8|  92 


1,264 

Following  is  the  journal  kept  from  day  to  day. 

June  26.  Left  Fairbanks  in  canoe  at  4  p.  m. 
Camped  10  miles  below  Chenoa. 
Made  4  hours. 

27.  Camped    just    below    Nenana.       Very 

wet.     Made  8  hours. 

28.  Started  at  noon.     Thunder  storm  came 

up.     Camped  at  5    p.   m.     Made  5 
hours. 

29.  Broke  camp  at  9.     Passed  Tolovana  at 

7  p.  m.  Camped  on  bar  at  mouth  of 
Kantishna  at  8.30.  Made  11  hours. 
3c.  Cut  poles  for  poling  up  stream.  Mos- 
quitoes very  bad.  Windy.  Sparks 
caught  in  mosquito  tent,  which  nearly 
burnt  up.  Able  to  repair  damages 
all  right.  Broke  camp  at  1  p.  m. 
and  traveled  till  6.     Current  about 

174 


3i  miles  per  hour.     Stopped  one  hour 
for  lunch.     Made  4  hours. 
July     1.     Broke  camp  at  11.     Camped  at  7.30. 
Stopped  one  hour  for  lunch.     Made 

7  J  hours. 

2.  Broke  camp  at  9.20.     Stopped  one  hour 

for  lunch  and  camped  6.20.      Made 

8  hours. 

3.  Broke   camp   at   10.30.      Stopped  one 

hour  for  lunch  and  camped  at  7.30. 
Made  8  hours. 

4.  Broke  camp  at  10.30.     Stopped  1  hour 

for  lunch  and  camped  at  5.30.  Made 
6  hours. 

5.  Broke  camp  at  10.20.     1  hour  for  lunch 

and  camped  at  5.30.  At  noon  we 
passed  the  mouth  of  the  Toklat.  The 
few  Indians  camped  here  are  all 
down  at  Tanana.     Made  6  hours. 

6.  Broke    camp    at    1.15.       Stopped    for 

lunch  at  4.45  and  started  at  5.45. 
Camped  at  8.30.     Made  6\  hours. 

7.  Went  hunting.     Saw  no  game  except  a 

few  ducks.  There  are  many  tracks 
of  moose  on  the  bars,  but  they  seem 
to  have  gone  back  into  the  hills  to 
avoid  flies.      Bear  tracks  on  bars. 

175 


July  8.  Broke  camp  at  9.15.  Stopped  1  hour 
for  lunch.  Camped  at  6.15.  Made 
8  hours. 
9.  Broke  camp  at  9.45.  Stopped  2  hours 
for  lunch  and  rested  half  hour  in 
afternoon.  Camped  at  7.  Made 
7j  hours. 

10.  Broke  camp  at  10.15  and  camped  at 

7,  having  stopped  2J  hours.  Passed 
the  Bear  Paw  at  4.30.  Made  6J 
hours. 

11.  Broke  camp  at  12.15.     Camped  at  8, 

having  stopped  ij  hours  for  lunch. 
Made  6\  hours. 

12.  Feet  have  become  blistered  on  top  from 

going  barefoot  in  sun  and  cold  water. 
Stayed  in  camp. 

13.  Broke  camp  at  9.      Stopped  at  7.15, 

having  run  altogether  8J  hours. 

14.  Broke    camp    at    10.      Stopped    7.45, 

having  run  7}  hours. 

15.  Wet  and  feet  sore.      Stayed  in  camp 

till  3.13.  Broke  camp  and  went  on 
if  hours  and  came  to  deserted  town 
of  Roosevelt;  entered  the  best  house 
and  camped  there. 

16.  Very  wet.     Stayed  in  camp. 
176 


July    17.     Very  wet.     Stayed  in  camp. 

18.  Left  at  11  and  encountered  very  swift 

water.  Poled  five  hours  and  made 
camp.  Denali  looms  very  large  and 
splendid  right  ahead,  free  from  clouds 
and  white  from  base  to  summit. 
It  rises  from  a  low  level  country 
which  emphasizes  its  height. 

19.  Left  camp  at  11.45.     Poled  2 J  hours  and 

stopped  for  lunch.  Poled  f  hour  and 
reached  the  fork  of  river.  The  left 
fork  is  very  swift  and  muddy  with 
glacial  silt  from  the  high  snow  cov- 
ered mountains  to  the  south.  Denali 
looms  very  big  and  looks  about  30  m. 
away,  white  from  base  to  summit. 
The  right  fork  is  slack  water  and 
more  clear.  We  followed  the  right 
fork,  which  is  the  Kantishna  proper, 
and  changed  from  poles  to  paddles 
on  account  of  slack  water  which 
permits  of  paddles.  Camped  two 
hours  above  fork.      Made  \\  hours. 

20.  Broke  camp  at   10.30.      Passed   Birch 

Creek  in  1  hour.  It  comes  in  from 
the  left  and  is  clear  water  and  more 
swift    than    Kantishna,    which    now 

177 


becomes  very  slack.  A  deserted 
Indian  cabin  at  mouth  of  Birch 
Creek.  Traveled  till  8  p.  m.  and 
camped  in  bush.  There  are  no  longer 
any  sand-bars — clay  banks  with  wil- 
low and  alder  and  birch.  Made 
8J  hours. 
July  21.  Broke  camp  at  u.  In  2  hours  we  came 
to  a  good  duck  pond  on  left.  Shot 
three  mallard  and  1  widgeon.  Went 
on  J  hour  more  and  stopped  for  2 
hours  for  lunch.  Paddled  till  mid- 
night.    Made  about  10  hours. 

22.  Broke  camp  at  2  p.  m.      Stopped   ij 

hours  for  lunch  and  paddled  till  mid- 
night. Camped  on  muddy  bank  in 
tall  grass.  Banks  now  very  low  and 
muddy.  Whole  country  very  flat — 
full  of  ponds,  full  of  game.  Made 
8  hours. 

23.  Broke  camp  at  2,  and  camped  at  mid- 

night.    Made  7  hours. 

24.  Broke  camp  at  3.15.     Shot  one  goose 

today,  ducks  in  plenty.  Reached 
lake  at  7  p.  m.  Made  3J  hours.  At 
outlet  of  lake  a  muddy  stream  comes 
in  on  left  from  glaciers  on  the  moun- 

178 


tains.  This  is  the  stream  that  carries 
silt  into  Kantishna.  Once  into  the 
lake  the  water  is  clear.  Camped  on 
right  bank.     Made  3  J  hours. 

July  25.  Paddled  across  lake  and  climbed  a 
bluff,  from  which  we  could  see  a 
thin  column  of  smoke  on  west  shore, 
crossed  in  heavy  shower  and  found 
Indian  camp,  2  men,  Luke  and  John, 
with  three  women  and  two  chil- 
dren ;  all  other  Indians  away  hunting. 
Made  presents  and  camped  on  point 
some  distance  south  from  Indians. 
26.  Indians  came  and  brought  presents  of 
moose  meat  and  white  fish.  Denali 
bears  S.from  lake  covered  with  clouds. 
27-31.  During  these  days  we  explored  the 
borders  of  the  lake  and  Kwalana 
River,  made  maps,  traded  and  talked 
with  the  Indians.  Weather  very 
fine.  Skies  usually  clear  with  light 
breezes  and  occasional  high  winds. 

Aug.  1.  Crossed  head  of  lake  to  portage,  accom- 
panied by  the  two  Indians  and  7  dogs. 
Carried  all  but  canoe  2  miles  to  a 
small  lake.     Camped.     Pond  about 


\  mile  across. 


179 


Aug.  2.  Indians  returned  home  during  night 
with  dogs.  We  carried  the  canoe  to 
the  small  lake  and  went  across  with 
2  small  packs  to  find  the  portage 
on  other  side.  Found  trail  and  went  on 
with  packs  4  miles.  Returned  to  camp. 

3.  Passed  all  over  pond  and  carried  all 

but  camp  outfit  i\  miles  higher  up 
to  dryer  ground,  2  trips. 

4.  Packed  camp  and  outfit  in  two  packs 

weighing  about  95  pounds  each, 
packed  these  on  4  miles  to  first  cache. 
First  mile  of  portage  very  soft  ground, 
niggerhead  and  muskeg,  then  low 
hill,  then  soft  ground  and  water, 
another  low  hill  and  soft  ground, 
another  low  hill.  First  cache  on 
near  side  of  this  last  low  hill. 

5.  Brought  rest  of  outfit   to  camp — first 

cache. 

6.  Packed  all  but  tent  and  sleeping  outfit 

and  canoe  down  to  the  banks  of 
Kuskokwim. 

7.  Finished  portaging  and  pitched  camp 

on  bank  of  Kuskokwim. 
The  portage  is   10  miles  in  all.      The 
first  two  miles  between  the  big  lake 

180 


and  small  lake  is  very  soft  and  wet. 
The  rest  is  similar  at  intervals  be- 
tween the  hills.  We  made  7  packs 
averaging  95  lbs.  each  besides  canoe, 
which  weighs  180  lbs.  The  Kus- 
kokwim  at  this  point  is  a  small 
stream  of  clear  slack  water.  Current 
about  i|  miles  per  hour. 
Aug.  8.  Started  down  the  Kuskokwim  at  8.30. 
Shot  5  geese.  Lunched  on  a  sand- 
bar in  shower.  In  the  afternoon  a 
very  heavy  rain.  Storm  came  up, 
the  rain  falling  continuously  in  great 
quantities  and  nearly  filling  the 
canoe.  In  the  middle  of  the  storm 
we  entered  the  first  rapid  and  as  we 
shot  down,  a  loud  peal  of  thunder 
caused  some  confusion  of  sound  as 
it  mingled  with  the  noise  made  by 
the  water.  It  was  the  first  peal  of 
thunder  we  heard  since  the  day  after 
leaving  Fairbanks  and  as  it  mingled 
with  the  other  noise  it  produced  a 
curious  effect.  We  became  thor- 
oughly wet  by  the  rain.  Shot  two 
more  rapids  and  some  time  after- 
wards, the  rain  still  continuing,  we 

181 


saw  a  deserted   cabin  on  the  right 
bank  and  we  stopped  there  at  6.30. 
Made  stove  out  of  old  tin  cans  and 
dried  out  things.     Made  10  hours. 
Aug.     9.     Rain  continued.     Stayed  in  camp. 

10.  Traveled  9  hours  and  passed  four 
more  rapids.  Passed  Indian  encamp- 
ment on  left  bank.  Three  huts. 
One  old  man  in  encampment.  Others 
all  away  for  the  hunting. 

n.     Traveled  12  hours. 

12.  Traveled  4  hours  and  met  2  men  in 
2  boats.  One  had  spent  the  winter 
alone  trapping  on  the  Tacotna. 
The  other  had  spent  three  years 
alone  on  the  upper  South  Fork. 
He  had  floated  down  in  the  spring 
and  met  the  other  coming  up;  both 
were  trappers  and  they  made  a 
partnership  to  go  to  the  upper  Kus- 
kokwim  for  next  winter's  trapping. 
Wanted  to  know  the  date.  Half  an 
hour  later  we  came  to  a  stream  on  the 
left  which  brings  in  a  great  deal  of 
silt  from  the  glaciers  and  is  swift. 
From  this  point  we  saw  Denali 
E.S.E.  Made  10  hours. 
182 


Aug.    13.     Started   at  7.30.      Lunched   at   11.30. 
Stopped  at  10.15.     Made  11J  hours. 

14.  Started    10.       Camped    9.       Made    9 

hours. 

15.  Started  6.30.     Traveled  3  hours  to  the 

East  Fork  (Chedotlotna)  and  1  hour 
later  had  lunch,  if  hours  after- 
wards came  to  the  upper  outlet  of 
South  Fork  (Istna),  which  splits  in 
two,  these  mouths  being  J  mile 
apart.  In  three  hours  more  we 
arrived  at  the  lower  outlet  of  the 
Istna,  where  we  met  an  Indian  in  a 
canoe.  Made  11J  hours  and  camped 
at  a  large  tributary  coming  in  on  the 
left.  Here  we  found  2  Indians  who 
have  a  small  trading  post. 

16.  Made  9J  hours. 

17.  In  one  hour  came  to  the  Tacotna  on 

right.  Here  is  a  small  trading  post 
established  in  the  spring.  Also  some 
tents  of  prospectors  on  their  way 
up  to  the  Innoko  across  the  divide 
between  the  Kuskokwim  and  the 
Yukon.  Gold  discovered  on  Innoko 
this  spring.     Made  4  hours. 

18.  Wet.    Left  camp  at  10.     Passed  Indian 

183 


family  in  tent.  Woman  sick.  Later 
passed  Indian  village,  nearly  all  sick. 
Made  6\  hours. 
Aug.  20.  Started  at  8.  Came  on  very  wet. 
Ran  4  hours.  Camped  below  an 
Indian  village. 

21.  Made  6  hours  and  arrived  at  mouth  of 

Holiknuk  River,  where  the  Sikmiut 
Indiana  have  their  village.  Received 
by  Chief. 

22.  Stayed  in  the  Sikmiut  village,  picked 

up  some  specimens,  made  photos 
and  measurements,  about  60  people 
in  village.  Secured  many  notes 
and  some  linguistic  material. 

23.  Continued  as  yesterday. 

24.  Started     at     1     o'clock.      Wind    fair. 

Stopped  to  cut  mast  and  rig  sail. 
Wind  died  out.  Arrived  at  another 
Indian  village  at  5.30.  Camped. 
Made  4J  hours. 

25.  Started  at  8.     Made  10  hours.     Sailed 

when  we  could  get  fair  wind. 

26.  Passed  Kolmakoff.     Made  8  hours. 

27.  Passed  Ohagamiut  and  camped  10  miles 

below  Yukon  portage  and  about  1  mile 
below  the  village  of  Ogovik.     7  hours. 
184 


Aug.  28.  Strong  head  wind.  Visited  village  of 
Ogovik,  and  started  at  noon.  After 
rounding  a  bend  the  wind  came  fair 
and  we  sailed  till  7.  Wind  fresh  and 
we  found  a  snug  camping  place  by 
good  luck.     Made  6  hours. 

29.  Blew  gale  from  west  all  day,  with  heavy 

showers  holding  us  in  camp. 

30.  Still  wet  and  windy,  but  wind  is  fair 

and  we  ventured  out  under  sail. 
Soon  found  we  could  not  carry  all 
the  sail  and  we  ran  under  a  bank  and 
put  in  a  reef.  Wind  kept  freshen- 
ing. River  wide  and  full  of  bad 
bars.  After  2  hours'  sailing  wind 
freshened  more,  water  rough,  rising 
wind  headed  us  off  and  we  were 
forced  to  run  for  shelter  into  a 
slough  on  left  bank.  Camped  on 
bank  of  slough.     Made  3  hours. 

31.  Blew  gale  with  rain  all  day.     Stayed 

in  camp. 
Sept.    1.     Weather  fair.    Started  at  8  and  reached 
Mamtrelich  at  6.30.     Made  gi  hours. 


185 


APPENDIX   B 
The  Population  of  Northern  Alaska 


The   Minkhotana 

In  a  country  with  so  large  an  area  and  so 
diversified  a  surface  it  is  natural  to  find  different 
types  of  aboriginal  inhabitants.  Leaving  out 
the  Aleutian  Islands,  which  are  properly  classed 
ethnologically  with  Alaska,  the  inhabitants  of 
the  territory  represent  three  distinct  ethnic  groups 
distinguished  on  physical  lines,  in  elements  of 
culture  and  in  language.  In  all  these  respects 
they  differ  greatly  from  each  other.  Of  these 
three  groups,  one  is  confined  to  the  southeastern 
coast  strip  and  the  adjacent  islands  and  its  mem- 
bers are  known  as  the  Tlingit  and  the  Haida. 
With  these  people,  who  occupy  a  world  quite 
different  from  the  Alaska  in  which  we  traveled, 
we  are  not  concerned  in  this  article.  The  people 
with  whom  we  came  in  contact  were  members 
of  the  Tinneh  family  and  members  of  the  Eskimo 
or  Innuit  family. 

The  great  central  area  is  occupied  by  tribes 
1 86 


who,  in  their  own  dialects,  are  variously  called 
Dene,  Tinneh,  Tena  and  Tana.  They  inhabit 
the  great  river  systems  of  the  Yukon,  the  Kus- 
kokwim  and  all  the  waterways  and  all  the  game 
country  in  the  interior,  and  they  are  usually 
referred  to  collectively  by  writers  on  ethnology 
as  Athapascans. 

It  is  one  of  the  remarkable  facts  connected 
with  the  distribution  of  the  natives  of  this  conti- 
nent that  the  Tinneh  of  Alaska  are  related  by 
language  to  the  Apaches  and  the  Navajos.  The 
name  by  which  the  latter  call  themselves  is  Dine, 
and  a  comparison  of  their  vocabularies  shows 
that  many  words  have  a  close  correspondence 
in  the  two  languages  and  that  the  grammatical 
structure  is  similar,  but  the  resemblance  is 
not  so  close  that  an  Indian  from  the  Rio  Grande 
and  one  from  the  Yukon  could  understand  each 
other's  conversation.  It  is  doubtful  whether 
the  Navajo  and  the  Tinneh  meeting  each  other 
would  discover  that  there  was  any  relationship 
between  their  languages.  It  is  nevertheless  a 
well-known  and  long  established  fact  that  such 
a  relationship  exists. 

So  far  as  their  material  culture  is  concerned, 
the  Tinneh  Indians  do  not  resemble  either  the 
Apache  or  the  Navajo.     Their  arts  and  industries 

187 


are  entirely  dissimilar.  Weaving,  for  instance, 
which  is  well  developed  among  the  Navajo,  is 
unknown  among  the  Athapascans  of  the  North. 

There  is  evidence  that  the  Alaskan  Tinneh 
at  one  time  made  rough  pottery,  fragments  of 
which  have  been  found  on  ancient  camping  places 
along  the  rivers,  but  the  art  has  been  completely 
forgotten.  They  make  no  basketry,  and  birch- 
bark  and  wood  are  the  materials  from  which  all 
of  their  utensils  are  made.  Their  metal-work  is 
confined  to  the  making  of  iron  knives  and  spear- 
heads, the  material  being  obtained  in  trade  from 
tribes  on  the  south  coast  who  were  formerly  in 
contact  with  the  Russian  traders.  There  is 
evidence  that  in  earlier  times  these  blades  were 
made  of  native  copper.  In  any  case  it  is  note- 
worthy that  the  iron  implements  made  by  the 
inhabitants  of  the  interior  of  Alaska  show  a  high 
grade  of  workmanship.  The  Indians  live  by  hunt- 
ing and  fishing  and  have  domesticated  the  dog. 
Before  they  adopted  white  man's  attire  they 
wore  a  long  fringed  coat  over  leggins  with  mocca- 
sins attached.  The  cut  of  the  man's  coat  was 
the  same  as  that  of  the  woman,  except  that  the 
man's  was  pointed  before  and  behind  and  the 
woman's  was  rounded.  These  garments  were 
made  of  deerskin  dressed  without  the  hair  and 
188 


decorated  with  porcupine  quill  embroidery.  Men 
and  women  wore  ornaments  of  Dentalium  shell 
obtained  in  trade  from  the  tribes  adjoining  the 
southern  coast.  These  shells  served  also  for 
money.  The  Tinneh  tribes  have  their  medicine 
men  and  sorcerers  and  believe  in  a  multitude 
of  evil  spirits.  They  also  believe  in  the  existence 
of  good  spirits.  The  healing  of  the  sick  is  within 
the  power  of  the  medicine  man  who,  by  his  incan- 
tations and  contortions,  displays  great  zeal  in 
his  wrestling  with  the  evil  spirits  that  cause 
disease.  Personal  observations  which  I  have 
recorded  in  Chapter  IV  made  it  clear  to  me  that 
the  Minkhotana  at  Lake  Minchumina  have  images 
in  the  intervention  of  which  they  believe.  Their 
belief  in  the  efficacy  of  their  own  religious  practices 
has  been  known  to  survive  their  conversion  by 
the  missionaries. 

The  different  tribal  divisions  of  the  Tinneh 
family  occupy  different  territories  and  are  desig- 
nated by  tribal  names.  Thus  the  people  living 
on  the  Yukon  between  the  Sunkaket  River  and 
the  mouth  of  the  Tanana  call  themselves  Yukon- 
ekhotana,  which  means  the  people  of  the  Yukon, 
a  tribal  name  which  ignores  their  neighbors 
living  above  and  below  on  the  same  stream. 
The  tribe  that  occupies  the  Tanana  Valley  call 

189 


themselves  Tenan-Kutchin,  meaning  mountain 
people,  because  that  river  cuts  through  the 
mountains.  All  the  Tinneh  tribes  had  formerly 
a  common  trading  territory  called  Nukluyaket, 
situated  on  the  Yukon  at  the  confluence  of  the 
Tanana.  On  that  neutral  ground  the  Tinneh 
tribes  from  different  parts  of  the  territory  used 
to  meet  once  a  year  to  trade.  Nukluyaket  is 
the  triangular  bit  of  land  found  above  the  Tanana 
where  it  joins  the  Yukon. 

The  other  group  of  Alaskan  natives  with  which 
we  are  concerned  is  the  Eskimo  and  they  occupy 
the  coast  from  Prince  William  Sound  on  the 
North  Pacific  all  the  way  round  the  shores  to 
Bering  Sea  and  the  Arctic  Ocean.  Their  villages 
are  always  found  on  the  shores  of  the  sea  or 
a  short  distance  up  from  the  mouths  of  the 
rivers.  Everywhere  (except  at  one  point  on  Cook 
Inlet)  they  have  kept  the  Tinneh  away  from  the 
coast.  They  are  in  contact  with  the  Tinneh 
tribes  at  many  points  and  some  fierce  conflicts 
are  said  to  have  taken  place  in  the  past.  One 
of  the  points  of  close  contact  was  on  the  Lower 
Kuskokwim  River,  where  the  Eskimo  penetrated 
more  than  two  hundred  miles  from  salt  water 
and  where  they  completely  subdued  the  tribe 
that  formerly  inhabited  that  part  of  the  valley. 
190 


This,  I  believe,  is  the  farthest  point  to  which 
the  Eskimo  are  known  to  have  penetrated  from 
the  coast  and  to  have  formed  their  own  settle- 
ments. This  conquest  was  not  effected  without 
a  struggle.  At  the  mouth  of  the  Kuskokwim 
and  on  the  shores  of  its  estuary  there  was  con- 
centrated until  early  in  the  nineteenth  century 
a  large  Eskimo  population,  people  of  robust 
physique  and  energetic  temperament.  The  river 
from  its  source  to  within  about  a  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  from  the  mouth  presents  particularly 
attractive  features,  well  adapted  to  the  habits 
of  life  of  the  Tinneh  Indians,  for  it  has  good  timber 
with  stretches  of  open  rolling  country  and  neigh- 
boring uplands,  and  it  was  formerly  a  favorite 
game  country.  This  valley,  therefore,  became  a 
stronghold  of  what  appears  to  have  been  two 
closely  related  tribes  whose  members  were  masters 
of  the  interior,  including  the  divide  between  the 
Kuskokwim  and  the  Tanana  and  the  country 
lying  over  against  the  Alaskan  range.  In  their 
remote  fastnesses  in  the  far  interior  about  the 
head  of  the  Kuskokwim  River  they  were  free 
from  intrusion,  and  among  their  neighbors  on  all 
sides  they  acquired  a  reputation  of  great  ferocity. 
Thus  the  Russians,  during  the  period  of  their 
occupation  of  the  coast,  spoke  of  the  Indians  of 

191 


the  Upper  Kuskokwim  as  a  fierce  and  warlike 
tribe  of  whom  they  related  many  wild  tales, 
and  who  were  vaguely  known  to  them  as  the 
Khuilchan  or  Kolchane,  "the  far  away  people." 
This  notion,  working  upon  the  imagination  of 
native  and  foreigner  alike,  obtained  general  belief 
and  was  firmly  established  and  preserved  in 
Alaskan  tradition,  prevailing  as  late  as  1905. 
During  that  year  I  met  the  Russian  Bishop  of 
Alaska  on  the  Yukon  and  when  I  spoke  of  making 
a  journey  to  the  Upper  Kuskokwim  he  gave  it 
as  his  opinion  that  this  would  be  impossible  on 
account  of  the  fierce  and  hostile  Indians  who 
had  their  stronghold  there  and  who  did  not 
tolerate  the  appearance  of  any  stranger  among 
them.  This  opinion  was  supported  on  all  hands 
by  the  white  people,  but  not  by  the  Indians  of 
the  Tanana  who  were  no  longer  afraid  of  their 
western  neighbors. 

There  is  no  data  at  all  available  for  determining 
even  approximately  the  population  of  the  Upper 
Kuskokwim  in  early  times.  Petroff,  writing  in 
1882,  thought  that  the  numbers  at  that  time 
did  not  exceed  200.  It  is  not  clear  on  what 
ground  he  based  his  estimate.  His  statement 
runs  as  follows. 

"The    length    of   the    Kuskokwim    is    not 
192 


known,  its  headwaters  having  thus  far  been 
untouched  by  the  explorer  or  trader.      We 
have  the  statement  of  natives  to  the  effect 
that  the  Upper  Kuskokwim  River  flows  slug- 
gishly   through    a    vast    plateau    or    valley, 
the    current    acquiring    its    impetus    only    a 
short  distance  above  the  village  of  Napaimute. 
From  this  point  down  to  the  trading  station 
of   Kalmakovsky   and    to   the   southern   end 
of  the  portage  route  between  this  river  and 
the  Yukon  the  banks  are  high  and  gravelly, 
and  chains  of  mountains  seem  to  run  parallel 
with  its  course  on  either  side.     This  section 
of  the  Kuskokwim  valley  is  but  thinly  popu- 
lated, though  apparently  the  natural  advan- 
tages are  far  greater  than  on  the  corresponding 
section  of  the  Yukon.     The  soil  is  of  better 
quality,  and  is  sufficiently  drained  to  permit 
of  a  more  luxuriant  growth  of  forest  trees, 
shrubs  and  herbs." 
Speaking   of   the    inhabitants   of   the    interior, 

he  writes. 

"The  Khuilchan,  or  Kolchane  of  the  Rus- 
sians, occupy  the  vast  interior  mountainous 
regions  bordering  upon  the  upper  Kuskokwim, 
the  divide  between  the  latter  river  and  the 
Tennanah   in   the   north,   the   main  Alaskan 

193 


range  in  the  east  and  south,  and  the  country 
of  the  Nushegagmute  in  the  west.  They 
are  nomads,  roaming  about  at  will  from  river 
to  river,  and  from  one  mountain  chain  to 
another,  selling  their  skins  at  the  trading 
posts  nearest  their  hunting  grounds.  This 
last  custom  has  given  rise  to  an  overestima- 
tion  of  their  number,  as  the  same  tribes  have 
been  accounted  for  as  trading  at  three  or 
four  different  stations.  Their  whole  number 
at  present  probably  does  not  reach  200. 
The  many  traditions  of  their  treacherous 
and  warlike  character  handed  down  to  us 
by  the  Russians  may  safely  be  looked  upon 
as  fabulous.  Living  as  they  do,  they  could 
never  have  been  a  numerous  people  or  the 
cause  of  danger  to  their  neighbors.  It  is  said 
that  they  have  some  permanent  villages 
on  the  headwaters  of  the  Kuskokwim,  but 
no  white  man  has  ever  beheld  them.  Such 
of  the  women  as  have  been  seen  at  the  various 
trading  stations  were  of  repulsive  appear- 
ance, and  gave  evidence  of  a  life  of  hardship 
and  abuse.  The  Khuilchan  use  birchbark 
canoes  and  do  not  make  use  of  the  dogs  as 
draught  animals." 
In  this  account  of  the  Indians  of  the  upper 
194 


•  I  ft  ~ 


A    TINNEH    INDIAN    WITH    SPEAR 


Kuskokwim  there  appears  to  be  some  miscon- 
ception. They  are  no  more  nomadic  than  the 
other  Tinneh  tribes  of  Alaska  and  if  their  number 
was  not  more  than  200  in  1880,  it  was  because 
they  had  become  greatly  reduced  by  disease 
during  the  quarter  of  a  century  preceding  that 
date.  Although  no  exact  figures  can  be  based 
on  tradition,  especially  on  tradition  that  does 
not  deal  in  figures,  it  is  worthy  of  note  that  the 
Indians  whom  we  encountered  on  Lake  Min- 
chumina  insisted  that  they  had  formerly  been 
a  numerous  and  powerful  people,  that  sickness 
and  death  had  visited  their  fathers  years  before 
and  continued  to  be  with  them  till  today.  I 
was  unable  to  obtain  a  count  of  the  inhabitants 
living  on  the  upper  Kuskokwim  in  1907  because 
nearly  all  were  away  at  the  hunting.  I  believe, 
however,  that,  counting  those  on  the  lake,  there 
are  on  the  upper  river  perhaps  100  souls,  hardly 
more. 

The  native  population  of  Alaska  is  not  known 
and  there  are  no  trustworthy  methods  of  com- 
puting it,  but  the  whole  number  would,  at  the 
present  time,  be  small  compared  to  the  vast 
areas  which  they  inhabit. 

The  Tinneh  tribes  and  the  Eskimo  were  stated 
in  the  census  of  1880  to  form  an  aggregate  popu- 

195 


lation  of  18,469,  of  whom  3,062  were  said  to  be 
Tinneh.  A  government  report  for  1903  gives 
still  larger  figures,  but  on  the  other  hand  there 
are  very  strong  reasons  for  believing  that  a  count 
of  the  Eskimo  and  Tinneh  inhabitants  of  Alaska 
at  the  present  time  would  fall  very  far  below 
these  figures.  Both  the  interior  tribes  and  the 
Eskimo  have  disappeared  very  rapidly  and  con- 
tinuously since  the  discovery  of  the  Territory. 
The  cause  of  the  disappearance  of  the  Tinneh 
has  been  the  presence  of  white  trappers,  traders 
and  prospectors  on  the  rivers.  The  disappear- 
ance of  the  Eskimo,  which  began  with  the  dis- 
covery of  the  country  by  the  Russians,  was 
accelerated  by  the  first  cruises  of  the  whalers 
into  the  Arctic.  In  both  cases  the  trouble  has 
been  greatly  aggravated  since  the  discovery  of 
gold  on  the  rivers  of  the  interior  and  on  the 
beaches  of  Bering  Sea.  It  has  been  notorious 
that  the  attitude  of  the  white  men  has  been  that 
the  native  has  no  rights  which  they  are  bound 
to  respect. 

The  name  of  the  river,  Kuskokwim,  is  an  Eskimo 
word,  the  Minkhotana  call  it  the  Tichininik.  It 
is  natural  that  in  this  case  the  Eskimo  name 
should  be  the  one  to  survive  because  only  its 
lower  course  has  been  known,  and  because  at 
196 


■<\ 


BIRCHBARK    BABY-CARRIER 


the  time  of  its  discovery  by  the  Russians  in  1832, 
the  Eskimo  had  taken  possession  of  and  occupied 
not  less   than   two  hundred   miles  of  its  course. 
From   these  aggressions   the  Tinneh,   reduced   in 
strength,  withdrew  towards  the  headwaters  where 
for  a  time  they  maintained  themselves  in  strength 
and  sustained  the  reputation  for  ferocity  that  I 
have    already    alluded    to.      At   what    time    the 
ravages  of  disease  first  struck  them  it  is  impos- 
sible to  say,  but  it  is  probable  that  the  beginnings 
of  these  visitations  corresponded  with  the  appear- 
ance of  the  Russians  on  the  coast  and  the  conse- 
quent affliction  of  the  old  enemies  of  the  Tinneh, 
the   Eskimo.      Diseases  introduced  with  terrible 
effect  among  the  Eskimo  were  no  doubt  carried 
to  the  far  interior  where  they  swept  away  the 
Indians  in   their  distant  fastnesses.      In   1848  a 
terrible  epidemic  of  smallpox  swept  over  Alaska, 
and    since    that    time    successive    visitations    of 
disease,    becoming    more    frequent,    have    nearly 
left  the  country  of  the  Upper  Kuskokwim  with- 
out a  population. 

The  Yukon,  unlike  the  Kuskokwim,  preserves 
today  the  name  given  it  by  the  Tinneh  Indians. 
The  Eskimo  called  it  the  Kuichbuk,  which  means 
Big  River,  and  by  that  name  it  was  known  to 
the    Russians    until    some    Hudson    Bay    traders 

197 


crossed  over  from  the  Mackenzie  and  adopted  the 
name  Yukon,  which  was  used  by  the  Tinneh 
living  on  that  river.  The  first  Russian  to  enter 
the  Kuichbuk  was  Glasunoff,  who,  in  1833,  went 
up  as  far  as  Nulato.  In  the  days  of  the  first 
traders  the  population  living  on  the  shores  of 
the  Yukon,  though  not  numerous,  was  much 
larger  than  at  any  subsequent  period.  At  the 
present  time  there  are  only  a  few  individuals 
between  the  Canadian  boundary  and  the  Anvik 
River,  where  the  Eskimo  territory  begins.  About 
this  point  on  the  river  the  Eskimo  and  the  Tinneh 
have  to  a  considerable  extent  intermingled  and 
where  this  has  taken  place  the  prevailing  customs 
are  largely  derived  from  the  Eskimo.  Even  some 
of  the  Tinneh  villages  that  have  come  in  contact 
with  the  Eskimo  have  discarded  their  manners 
and  customs  and  even  their  language  and  adopted 
those  of  the  Eskimo.  This  condition  obtains 
wherever  the  two  races  have  come  in  contact. 
The  Eskimo  culture  is  the  more  virile  and  aggres- 
sive and  when  the  two  meet  always  tends  to  replace 
that  of  the  Tinneh. 

The  Kuskokwim  is  not  so  large  as  the  Yukon, 
but  it  is,  nevertheless,  a  large  river.  Like  the 
Yukon,  it  has  discharged  so  much  silt  into  Bering 
Sea  that  a  bench  has  been  formed  on  the  ocean 
198 


IMAGE  USED  BY  THE  MIXK.HOTANA 


bed  opposite  its  mouth  for  many  miles  out  to 
sea.  The  water  is  so  shallow  on  this  bench  that 
at  low  tide  it  is  scarcely  deep  enough  to  float  a 
rowboat.  Sea  going  vessels,  therefore,  cannot 
enter  either  of  these  rivers  and  even  light  draught 
flat-bottomed  river  boats  have  difficulty  in  feeling 
their  way  through  the  winding  sloughs  and  narrow 
passages  into  the  Yukon,  a  stream  as  large  as  the 
Mississippi.  The  approach  to  the  Kuskokwim 
is  even  more  hazardous. 

As  they  near  their  lower  courses  the  Yukon 
and  the  Kuskokwim  approach  each  other  gradually 
until  at  about  ioo  miles  above  their  mouths 
there  remains  only  about  twenty  miles  of  flat 
tundra  between  them.  Moreover,  there  is  at 
this  point  a  chain  of  small  lakes  stretching  across 
this  neck  of  land  and  these  lakes  are  connected 
by  streams,  except  at  two  short  intervals.  It 
is  possible,  therefore,  to  pass  a  canoe  over  from 
one  river  to  the  other  with  only  two  short  carries. 
This  is  what  is  known  as  the  Yukon  portage, 
a  route  that  from  time  immemorial  was  used  by 
the  natives  and  later  by  the  fur  traders  of  the 
lower  river.  According  to  the  native  tradition 
it  was  for  the  possession  of  this  passage  that 
the  Eskimo  and  the  Tinneh  fought  in  the  beginning 
of   their    long    struggle.      This   was    affirmed    in 

199 


answer  to  questions  by  the  Chief  at  Sikmiut 
and  by  the  headmen  at  Ogovik.  The  former 
possession  by  the  Tinneh  of  the  passage  between 
the  rivers  may  account  for  a  circumstance  reported 
by  Dall  to  the  effect  that  the  Indians  on  the  lower 
Yukon,  between  the  Anvik  River  and  Nulato, 
are  members  of  the  same  tribe  as  those  on  the 
lower  Kuskokwim.  Further  than  this,  he  in- 
cludes in  the  same  classification  all  the  unknown 
Indians  on  the  upper  Kuskokwim  and  the  country 
adjacent.  To  this  group  he  applied  the  name 
Kayukhotana,  a  word  which  he  translates,  Low- 
landers. 

While  such  a  designation  would  correctly  de- 
scribe the  inhabitants  of  the  shores  of  the  lower 
Yukon  within  the  limits  described  and  to  inhabi- 
tants of  the  lower  Kuskokwim  living  in  the 
region  of  the  portage,  it  would  hardly  apply  to 
the  inhabitants  of  the  upper  Kuskokwim  or 
any  part  of  that  valley  above  Kolmakoff.  I 
was  not  able  to  confirm  or  to  disprove  the  accuracy 
of  Dall's  identification  of  the  Tinneh  people  on 
the  lower  Kuskokwim  with  the  Indians  of  Nulato. 
If  it  is  true  that  these  two  groups  originally 
formed  a  tribal  unit,  they  have  long  ceased  to 
have  any  connection  with  each  other.  There 
appears   to  be  a  conspicuous  difference  between 

200 


the  fine,  vigorous  and  thrifty  people  of  Sikmiut 
and  the  poor  people  about  Anvik  and  Nulato. 
The  traditions  of  the  Sikmiut,  wherever  the 
Tinneh  outcrop  appeared  through  the  super- 
imposed Innuit  stratum,  pointed  to  the  upper 
Kuskokwim  and  away  from  the  Yukon.  That 
tradition  is  not  clear,  but  it  is  sufficient  to  identify 
the  Tinneh  element  at  Sikmiut  in  its  original 
condition  as  a  separate  group  having  its  own 
hunting  grounds  and  its  own  chief.  They  occupied 
the  Kuskokwim  valley  from  the  point  where 
the  Eskimo  held  them  in  check  up  to  the  Istna 
and  including  that  stream.  They  were  in  touch 
with  and  closely  related  to  the  Minkhotana  who 
occupied  the  Lake  Minchumina  country,  the 
Upper  Kantishna  river,  and  the  Upper  Kuskok- 
wim or,  as  they  call  it,  the  Tichininik. 

Minkhotana  Numerals 

i  chel-ke-ka 

2  teke 

3  toke 

4  tenke 

5  cheo-lin-ala 

6  nilka-toka 

7  tono-no-teka 

8  nilka-tenke 

201 


9  che-kilok-kilaye 

10  che-loho-tal-ton 

20  en  total- ton 

100  che-loho-tal-ton-tson 

200  ento-ho-tal-ton-tson 

II 
The  Kuskwogamiut 

On  the  lower  Kuskokwim  River  and  its  estuary, 
from  Sikmiut  to  the  sea,  live  a  group  of  Eskimo 
who,  in  their  own  language,  are  collectively  called 
Kuskwogamiut,  which  simply  means  the  people 
of  the  Kuskokwim.  In  speaking  of  a  village 
they  usually,  though  not  always,  employ  the 
same  ending  -miut,  which  directs  attention  to 
the  people  rather  than  the  place.  Thus  the 
name  Mamtrelichmiut  is  usually  employed  in 
speaking  of  a  certain  village.  Literally  it  means 
the  people  of  Mamtrelich.  When  they  were 
first  heard  from  the  Kuskwogamiut  were  very 
numerous  and  lived  in  a  multitude  of  villages 
along  the  banks  of  the  river  and  between  it  and 
the  swampy  tundra.  According  to  trustworthy 
report,  some  of  the  larger  villages  contained  more 
than  a  thousand  inhabitants  each. 

The  first  European  to  come  in  contact  with 
202 


TWO    VIEWS    OF   A    BIRCHBARK    VESSEL    MADE    BY    THE    SIKMIUT 


the  Kuskwogamiut  was  Korsakoff,  who  visited 
the  mouth  of  the  river  in  1818.  Kolmakoff,  the 
commander  of  the  fort  at  Nushagak,  followed  in 
1820,  but  neither  of  these  casual  visits  left  any 
mark  upon  or  established  any  connection  with 
the  native.  In  1832  Lukeen  built  his  post  200 
miles  from  the  mouth  of  the  river.  In  1835 
Kolmakoff  traveled  overland  from  Bristol  Bay 
to  Norton  Sound,  crossing  the  Kuskokwim  at  its 
mouth.  In  the  same  year  Glasunoff  explored  the 
mouth  of  the  river  and  visited  Lukeen.  In  1841 
Lukeen's  fort  became  the  redoubt  of  Kolmakoff 
and  continued  to  be  used  as  a  trading  post  till 
1866,  when  it  was  dismantled.  During  the  years 
from  1835  till  the  first  decade  of  the  twentieth 
century  occasional  traders  came  in  contact  with 
the  Kuskwogamiut  at  isolated  points,  but  these 
points  of  contact  were  very  few  and  far  between. 
Kolmakoff  was  situated  at  the  apex  of  their 
domain,  where  there  was  only  an  outlying  popula- 
tion inhabiting  a  few  scattered  villages.  The 
main  population  was  congregated  in  numerous 
villages,  almost  contiguous  to  each  other  along 
the  shores  of  the  funnel-shaped  mouth  where  the 
river  discharges  into  the  bay  and  on  the  numerous 
sloughs  and  waterways  that  wind  endlessly  over 
the  low  lying  and  swampy  tundra. 

203 


The  whalers  gave  this  part  of  the  coast  a  wide 
berth  owing  to  the  shallow  waters  that  stretch 
for  miles  outside  the  mouth  of  the  river,  and  the 
Kuskwogamiut  thus  escaped  the  harsh  and  fatal 
experiences  inflicted  on  many  of  the  unfortunate 
people  from  Norton  Sound  to  Point  Barrow  and 
eastward  to  Herschel  Island  as  a  consequence  of 
the  periodical  visits  of  the  whalers.  As  for  the 
gold  hunters,  both  on  account  of  the  difficulty  of 
approaching  the  mouth  of  the  river,  and  on 
account  of  the  wild  stories  about  the  fierce  natives 
of  the  upper  river,  they  did  not  reach  the  Kus- 
kokwim  till  1907,  a  date  which,  by  chance,  coin- 
cides with  the  year  of  our  visit. 

Missionary  enterprise  is  responsible  for  the 
station  at  Bethel  with  its  branch  at  Quinhagak 
on  the  bay.  Along  the  coast  west  from  the  bay, 
at  a  place  called  Tununa,  the  Jesuits  have  a  mis- 
sion where  Father  Barnum  labored  for  twelve 
years  and  where  he  collected  the  material  for 
his  grammar  of  the  Innuit  language. 

When  one  considers  the  wide  stretch  of  desola- 
tion, the  forlorn  and  pathless  tundras  that  sweep 
to  the  level  horizon  around  these  missions,  and 
when  we  consider  that  the  native  villages  are 
dotted  over  this  wide  expanse,  trackless  as  the 
ocean,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  missionary 
204 


A    WOODEN    VESSEL    MADE    IN    TWO    PIECES 


A    WOODEN    VESSEL   MADE    IN   A    SINGLE    PIECE 


influence  has  not  reached  many  of  the  Kuskwoga- 
miut  or  left  much  impression  on  them. 

Their  villages  are  protected  in  a  peculiar  way. 
The  river  widens  out  at  its  mouth  till  the  in- 
habitants on  one  bank  cannot  see  the  opposite 
shore.  Its  muddy  current,  backed  up  by  the 
tide,  deposits  silt  along  the  margins  where  the 
turgid  water  laps  the  swales.  Alder,  willows, 
small  poplars  and  tall  rank  grass  take  root  in 
this  soft  soil  and  their  entangled  growth  of  roots 
forms  a  fringe  that  extends  only  a  hundred  yards 
on  an  average  from  the  river  bank.  Beyond 
this  fringe  is  the  oozy  tundra  with  its  rank  growth 
of  moss  many  feet  deep,  where  there  is  no  deposit 
of  mud  for  the  willows  and  alders  to  take  root. 
The  banks  thus  consist  of  natural  dykes  or  levees 
which  furnish  a  dry  footing  along  the  margins 
of  the  river.  On  this  rim  many  of  the  villages 
are  built.  At  other  places  there  are  slight  rounded 
elevations,  dry  spots  on  the  tundra,  each  occupied 
by  a  village.  When  the  tide  goes  out  there  is 
apt  to  be  a  wide  stretch  of  mud  flat  and  a  very 
oozy  bank,  between  the  river  and  the  village 
that  is  built  on  its  banks,  but  when  the  tide  is 
high  your  boat  comes  on  a  level  with  the  land. 
As  for  the  villages  built  near  the  irregular  water- 
ways   that    intersect    the    tundra,    the    tortuous 

205 


paths  by  which  they  are  reached  can  be  followed 
only  by  the  native  himself.  The  stranger  is  liable 
to  get  lost  in  the  swamp. 

In  winter,  of  course,  everything  is  different. 
The  river  and  tundra  alike  are  covered  with 
snow  and  if  you  know  your  way  you  can  go  any- 
where with  dog  sleds. 

When  we  consider  their  natural  environment, 
and  especially  their  peculiar  geographical  isola- 
tion, it  is  easy  to  understand  why  the  Kuskwoga- 
miut  have  remained  immune  from  contact  with 
the  outside  world;  and  it  is,  therefore,  the  more 
deplorable  that  even  their  isolation  did  not  pro- 
tect them  from  the  baneful  and  infectious  influ- 
ences of  the  white  man's  presence  in  Alaska. 
Diseases  such  as  smallpox,  measles,  pneumonia, 
tuberculosis  and  other  lethal  and  epidemic  scourges 
have  from  time  to  time  been  passed  on  through 
the  native  communities  from  one  part  of  the  coast 
to  another  until  even  the  Kuskwogamiut  in  their 
relative  security  were  made  to  suffer. 

Of  course  they  died  formerly  and  they  always 
had  their  diseases.  There  is  evidence  that  they 
often  ate  too  much  and  suffered  very  serious 
consequences.  There  is  some  reason  for  thinking 
that  they  were  so  reckless  at  their  winter  feasts 
that  they  sometimes  ran  short  of  provisions 
206 


A   WOODEN    VESSEL    MADE    IN    A    SINGLE    PIECE 


before  the  winter  was  over  and  starved.  They 
undoubtedly  had  other  disastrous  experiences 
as  well  in  the  good  old  times,  but  epidemic 
scourges  such  as  those  enumerated  that  swept 
away  whole  villages — whole  rows  of  villages — 
in  a  season  were  unknown  till  the  white  man 
came  to  Alaskan  shores. 

The  older  traditions  of  the  natives  mention  big 
villages  of  more  than  a  thousand  inhabitants.  In 
the  United  States  Census  for  1880,  Petroff  gives  a 
list  of  forty-one  villages  on  the  lower  Kuskokwim 
River  and  the  bay  with  a  population  of  3,670.  The 
largest  village  listed  had  a  population  given  as  314. 

In  1907  the  number  of  villages  in  the  same 
area  was  not  more  than  twenty.  Abandoned 
villages  strewn  with  bones  bore  witness  to  what 
had  happened.  One  of  the  worst  and  most 
cruel  visitations  of  the  later  period  was  an  epi- 
demic of  pneumonia  in  the  summer  of  1900  that 
must  have  killed  a  thousand  on  the  Kuskokwim 
alone  and  that  left  many  villages  empty.  As 
it  was  impossible  for  us  to  visit  all  of  the  inhabited 
villages,  I  am  unable  to  give  a  count  of  the  popu- 
lation, but  from  all  the  information  I  could 
gather  I  was  led  to  believe  that  the  population 
of  the  lower  Kuskokwim  from  Kolmakoff  to  the 
outer  bay  was  not  more  than  2,000. 

207 


DRESS 

In  their  dress  the  Kuskwogamiut  resemble  the 
Eskimo  of  Cape  Prince  of  Wales,  but  they  also 
present  points  of  difference.  The  undergarments 
are  made  of  Arctic  hare  and  squirrel  skin  with 
fur  inside.  The  outfit  consists  of  a  long  shirt 
with  sleeves  and  worn  outside  a  pair  of  trousers. 
Over  these  are  worn  the  long  loose  tunic  with 
sleeves  that  reaches  to  the  ankles.  In  cut  this 
garment  is  much  the  same  for  men  and  women 
except  in  materials.  Men's  tunics  are  usually 
made  of  squirrel,  marmot  or  muskrat  skins. 
Women's  are  usually  made  of  reindeer  skin  very 
beautifully  tanned.  Men's  tunics  are  frequently 
decorated  with  strips  of  wolf  skin  attached  at 
one  end  and  hanging  loose  all  up  and  down  in 
front  and  behind. 

In  winter  this  garment  is  provided  with  a 
hood  to  draw  over  the  head.  The  woman's 
garment  is  much  more  elaborately  and  tastefully 
decorated  with  strips  of  wolverine  skin  that 
dangle  in  front  and  behind  and  is  also  in  the 
finer  garments  provided  with  double  trimmings 
of  wolf  and  wolverine  skin  according  to  the 
taste  of  the  wearer,  very  much  like  the  one  pos- 
sessed by  the  young  girl  at  Sikmiut,  whose 
costume  is  a  very  good  example  of  that  of  the 
208 


well-dressed  Eskimo  woman,  though  she  herself 
was  a  Tinneh  with  perhaps  a  small  admixture  of 
Eskimo. 

The  trousers  of  both  sexes  are  usually  made 
of  deer  skin,  and  the  boots  are  made  of  deer 
skin  trimmed  with  wolf  and  wolverine  skins 
about  the  top.  The  boots  of  the  men  come  up 
to  the  knee  over  the  trouser;  those  of  the  women 
are  shorter.  Sometimes  the  hair  is  turned  out 
and  sometimes  it  is  turned  in.  The  soles  are 
made  of  sealskin.  Uppers  and  legs  are  often 
very  tastefully  decorated  with  strips  of  dyed 
leather  embroidered  with  moosehair.  Inside  the 
boots  are  worn  socks  made  of  grass.  These 
articles  are  worthy  of  special  notice.  Along  the 
margins  of  the  sloughs  grows  during  the  summer 
a  long  coarse  grass.  This  is  cut  and  dried  by  the 
Kuskwogamiut  and  stored  in  bundles  for  subse- 
quent use  in  the  manufacture  of  socks,  mats, 
screens  in  the  houses  and  sails  for  the  skin  boats. 
These  are  made  by  the  women,  and  they  are 
very  well  and  neatly  made.  The  grass  socks 
are  the  warmest  and  most  comfortable  covering 
for  the  feet  that  any  people  have  yet  devised. 
It  is  the  only  thing  that  will  keep  the  feet  warm 
during  very  cold  weather  in  the  snow.  If  you 
haven't  a   pair  of  grass  socks  you   may  take  a 

209 


bunch  of  dry  grass  as  a  substitute.  Among  the 
Kuskwogamiut  everybody  wears  grass  socks. 

For  wet  weather,  waterproof  garments  are 
made  of  seal  gut  sewed  together  in  long  strips. 
This  waterproof  coat  is  another  Eskimo  inven- 
tion that  deserves  careful  attention.  It  is  worn 
over  the  furs,  it  weighs  nothing,  it  has  a  hood 
attached  and  will  not  leak.  Waterproof  boots 
and  even  coats  are  made  also  of  salmon  skin  and 
this  material  is  used  very  extensively  for  making 
waterproof  bags.  Sealskin  with  hair  removed 
and  well  oiled  is  used  for  the  best  waterproof 
boots. 

Men's  and  women's  tunics  are  sometimes  made 
of  bird  skins,  the  men's  usually  of  the  skins  from 
the  breasts  of  geese  and  the  women's  from  the 
skins  of  the  breasts  of  various  ducks.  These 
garments  are  often  very  beautiful. 

A  women's  workbag  contains  always  an  assort- 
ment of  sinews  taken  from  the  white  whale,  the 
walrus  or  the  deer.  These  are  shredded  and 
twisted  into  thread  and  used  for  sewing.  It 
also  contains  needles  made  of  ivory,  thimbles 
of  tough  seal  skin,  bodkins,  needle-case  of  bone 
or  ivory  and  the  uluok  or  woman's  knife. 

Among  the  Kuskwogamiut  the  men  wear  labrets, 
one  in  either  side  of  the  lower  lip.  They  are 
210 


A    WOMAN  S    COAT   MADE    OF    DUCK    SKINS 


made  of  ivory  or  of  stone.  The  men  and  women 
alike  wear  earrings  of  ivory  and  beads.  Elaborate 
headgear  is  sometimes  worn  by  the  women  when 
they  dress  up.  An  example  is  shown  on  plate 
facing  page  220.  It  belonged  to  the  same  woman 
that  owned  the  precious  birdskin  coat  shown  oppo- 
site this  page.  Both  these  articles  would  be  re- 
served by  the  owner  for  the  dances,  festivals  and 
other  great  occasions  in  which  the  Kuskwogamiut 
delight,  which  take  an  important  place  in  their 
social  life  and  make  up  a  large  part  of  each 
winter's  programme. 

FOOD 

The  Kuskwogamiut,  like  their  Innuit  brethren 
everywhere,  are  children  of  the  sea;  they  look 
to  the  sea  for  their  living  and  not  to  the  land. 
The  mountains  are  the  abode  of  spirits,  hostile 
to  mankind,  lying  in  wait  for  the  hunter.  On 
the  other  hand,  they  enjoy  the  freedom  of  the 
sea,  which  is  their  favorite  hunting  ground. 
The  whale  has  always  been  the  principal  quarry 
of  these  hunters  of  the  deep.  When  the  ice 
breaks  loose  in  June  and  the  open  water  of  Bering 
Sea  appears,  the  strong  men  of  each  village  pre- 
pare themselves  by  a  ceremony  in  the  kozgee, 
an  event  that  I  would  have  done  much  to  see. 
After  the  ceremony  the  hunters,  still  in  ceremonial 

211 


trappings,  bring  the  umiaks  or  big  sea-going  boats 
down  to  the  shore  ice,  in  accordance  with  a  ritual, 
on  the  strict  observance  of  which  depends  the 
success  of  the  whale  hunt. 

Meanwhile  solitary  scouts  in  their  kyaks  have 
gone  out  to  sea  to  look  out  for  whales.  As  soon 
as  a  kyak  returns  reporting  a  whale,  the  waiting 
crews  launch  the  umiaks  and  go  in  pursuit.  The 
best  and  most  successful  harpoonist  in  each  crew 
stands  in  the  bow  on  the  lookout;  the  rest  of 
the  crew,  eight  or  ten  men,  work  the  paddles. 
It  is  a  great  honor  to  capture  a  whale  and  the 
most  successful  hunter  occupies  a  proud  position 
in  his  village.  When  the  carcass  of  a  whale  has 
been  towed  ashore  there  is  great  rejoicing  and 
much  feasting.  It  is  cut  up  and  the  meat  placed 
in  the  caches  for  the  winter's  supply. 

Next  to  the  whale,  the  most  important  big 
game  is  the  walrus,  which  is  speared  on  the  floe 
ice  as  it  moves  in  detached  masses  southward 
through  Bering  Sea  in  the  autumn. 

The  hair  seal  frequents  the  shallow  waters  of 
Kuskokwim  Bay  and  is  speared  from  the  light 
kyaks.  The  chief  food  product  derived  from 
the  seal  is  the  oil  which  is  stored  in  large  bags 
made  from  the  skins  of  the  same  animal.  A 
supply  of  seal  oil  put  up  in  this  way  is  always 

212 


A    MAN  S    COAT   MADE    OF    SKINS    OF    GEESE 


on  hand  and  furnishes  one  of  the  staple  articles 
of  diet.  It  is  used  in  connection  with  dried  fish 
and  other  mixed  dishes. 

Deer's  meat,  which  used  to  be  plentiful,  is 
now  scarce  and  highly  prized.  The  tallow  is  a 
great  delicacy  and  those  who  would  indulge  in 
the  luxury  must  pay  for  it.  It  is  an  article  of 
trade,  passed  from  one  place  to  another  at  good 
profit  in  skins  or  other  commodities. 

Geese  and  ducks  breed  in  great  numbers  in 
the  tundras,  and  in  season  they  are  hunted  either 
with  the  bow  and  arrow  or  by  means  of  the 
bolas,  a  kind  of  sling  made  of  ivory  balls  attached 
to  strings,  all  of  which  are  united  at  the  other  end. 

Fish,  especially  the  king  salmon,  are  taken 
in  nets  and  in  traps  and  dried  or  smoked.  In 
winter  tomcod  are  caught  through  holes  in  the 
ice  with  hook  and  line  and  with  traps. 

Besides  these  items  furnishing  the  staple  food 
supply,  there  are  certain  delicacies  and  prepared 
dishes,  each  appropriate  to  the  season.  The 
eggs  of  the  geese  are  gathered  and  allowed  to 
lie  outdoors  till  they  suit  the  taste,  when  they 
are  eaten  boiled.  By  another  method  the  eggs 
are  gathered  when  they  are  nearly  hatched  and 
then  they  are  placed  in  the  pot. 

In  the  salmon  fishing  season  the  heads  of  the 

213 


salmon  are  placed  in  a  pit  till  they  become  putrid 
and  full  of  life  under  the  sun's  rays;  they  are 
eaten  with  great  relish.  I  do  not  know  whether 
more  civilized  epicures  have  devised  anything 
so  high  as  this  dish. 

On  the  tundra  there  grows  a  berry  about  the 
size  of  a  gooseberry  and  of  a  pale  yellowish  pink 
color.  It  is  known  as  salmon  berry.  These 
berries  are  gathered  in  season  and  stored.  They 
are  used  for  making  some  very  choice  dishes.  One 
of  these  is  called  kamamok  and  is  compounded 
of  cold  storage  fish  roe,  cold  storage  old  seal  oil 
and  cold  storage  salmon  berries  mashed  together. 

Akutok  is  even  more  refined.  The  cold  storage 
again  furnishes  the  principal  ingredients;  this 
time  salmon  berries,  seal  oil  and  deer  tallow. 
These  are  boiled  together  and  afterwards  cooled 
by  mixing  in  fresh  snow  and  whipping  the  whole 
mixture  up  into  a  kind  of  thick  cream. 

In  their  natural  condition  the  food  supply 
of  the  Kuskwogamiuts  was  abundant  and,  as 
will  be  seen  from  the  above,  existed  in  a  good 
many  varieties.  The  reduction  of  the  food 
supply,  together  with  the  effects  of  disease,  both 
due  to  foreign  influence,  must  be  held  responsible 
for  their  diminished  numbers  and  for  their  changed 
outlook  on  life. 
214 


INDUSTRIES    AND    OCCUPATIONS 

The  principal  occupations  of  the  men  are  those 
that  have  to  do  with  getting  food.  The  principal 
occupations  of  the  women  are  those  that  have 
to  do  with  domestic  life  and  the  making  of  clothing 
and  skin  bags,  weaving  mats  and  baskets,  making 
pottery  and  the  preparation  of  food. 

The  men  do  all  the  hunting  and  fishing;  they 
cut  up  the  whale  and  store  the  skin  and  the 
blubber,  they  skin  the  walrus  and  cache  the  meat, 
they  remove  the  skin  of  the  seal,  they  boil  the 
meat  in  large  wooden  troughs  to  extract  the  oil. 
In  this  latter  process  red  hot  stones  are  dropped 
into  the  trough  containing  water  and  seal  meat, 
and  continuously  changed  with  long  wooden 
tongs  to  keep  the  water  boiling.  As  the  oil 
rises  to  the  surface  it  is  skimmed  off  and  stored 
in  skins. 

The  men  also  gather  driftwood  and  split  it 
up  for  use  as  fuel  in  the  kozgee.  They  make  the 
wooden  kantuks  or  dishes,  the  wooden  spoons 
and  ladles  and  the  snowshoes;  they  are  also  the 
ivory  workers  and  make  all  the  utensils  and 
ornaments  in  which  this  material,  obtained  from 
the  walrus,  is  employed.  The  articles  of  domestic 
use  made  of  ivory  consist  of  bows  for  working 
drills,    snow    knives,    needlecases,    bag    handles 

215 


and  fasteners  for  bags  and  for  clothing.  The 
men  make  the  lip  ornaments  of  ivory  and  of  stone. 
They  make  the  little  dolls  of  wood  and  ivory, 
and  they  are  the  artists  who  decorate  with  lively 
pictures  of  the  chase  and  other  scenes  the  ivory 
implements  which  are  sometimes  very  taste- 
fully wrought  and  are  in  fact  objects  of  beauty. 
The  men  also  paint  pictures  on  the  insides  of  the 
kantuks  and  they  study  and  execute  picture 
writing. 

The  women  too  have  their  artistic  interests 
and  cultivate  the  fine  arts  in  several  depart- 
ments: beadwork,  artistic  leather  work  and 
embroidery  on  skin.  The  women  make  the 
charms  of  pieces  of  whale  meat  sewed  up  in  skins 
that  are  worn  by  the  hunters.  The  men  make 
the  amulets  of  stone  in  animal  form  that  are  worn 
by  both  sexes. 

The  heaviest  work  of  the  women  is  the  dressing 
of  skins  for  clothing.  Seal,  deer,  squirrel  and 
muskrat  skins  have  to  be  dressed  in  the  summer 
for  making  clothes  in  the  winter.  Seal  skins 
have  also  to  be  prepared  without  the  hair  for 
boot  soles  and  for  waterproof  boots.  Salmon 
skins  have  also  to  be  prepared  for  waterproof 
bags  and  even  sometimes  for  waterproof  gar- 
ments. The  women  prepare  also  the  seal  gut 
216 


and  cut  it  into  long  strips  for  making  the  fine 
waterproof  coats.  All  this  heavy  work  has  to 
be  done  in  the  short  summer.  During  the  summer 
also  the  women  make  the  pottery  lamps  and 
pots  from  clay  obtained  somewhere  on  the  tundra 
or  along  the  river  bank.  The  clay  is  worked 
into  a  thick  paste  and  shaped  by  pressure  of 
the  hands  and  a  small  paddle.  Simple  lines  or 
dots  are  impressed  on  the  pots  for  decoration 
sometimes,  and  at  other  times  a  symbolic  device 
is  incised  on  one  side.  These  pots  are  of  different 
sizes  and  are  used  for  cooking.  The  lamps  are 
saucer  shaped  and  are  usually  decorated  in  the 
interior  with  concentric  circles  or  else  with  char- 
acteristic symbolic  devices.  This  pottery  is 
only  very  lightly  burned  in  an  open  fire  made  of 
driftwood.  Its  texture  is  coarse  and  the  walls 
have  to  be  made  thick  to  gain  sufficient  strength. 

During  the  winter  the  men  make  their  sleds, 
their  weapons  and  implements,  prepare  quantities 
of  long  line  from  walrus  hide  for  the  harpoons, 
for  snowshoes  and  for  dog  harness;  they  make 
the  wooden  utensils  in  which  their  food  is  served 
and  they  keep  alive  all  those  industrial  arts  and 
aesthetic  pursuits  that  pertain  to  the  sphere  of 
men's  activities  during  the  winter. 

The  kyak  or  skin  canoe  has  a  frame  of  wood 

217 


put  together  with  lashings  of  walrus  hide.  The 
covering  of  walrus  hide  that  encloses  the  frame, 
leaving  only  a  hole  in  the  middle  for  the  man  with 
the  paddle,  is  removed  in  the  autumn  and  stored 
during  the  winter.  The  repairing  of  these  cover- 
ings, putting  the  frames  in  order  and  replacing  the 
coverings  are  jobs  for  the  first  days  of  spring. 

The  big  angiaks  or  open  boats  have  their  much 
heavier  frames  also  made  of  wood,  the  separate 
parts  being  lashed  together.  They  also  have 
their  coverings  of  walrus  hide  removed  during 
the  winter  and  replaced  during  the  first  days  of 
spring.  The  dog  sleds  are  about  eight  feet  long, 
made  of  wood  and  shod  with  ivory.  In  the  winter 
the  women  are  busy  making  clothing,  boots, 
waterproofs,  baskets,  mats  and  in  decorating 
the  various  garments  with  embroidery  and  the 
application  of  bits  of  leather  in  different  color. 
(They  have  a  few  simple  dyes  by  which  they  get 
brown,  yellow,  black  and  red.)  These  colors, 
combined  with  the  white  dressed  leather  or  with 
the  furs  in  their  varied  natural  colors,  produce 
very  handsome  effects.  Birdskin  garments  are 
often  decorated  by  small  strips  of  skin  taken  from 
the  birds'  feet  and  dyed  yellow;  these  are  attached 
in  the  form  of  tassels  at  the  interstices  of  the 
skins  where  they  are  sewed  together. 
218 


BB  - 


A    PAIR    OF    GRASS    SOCKS 


The  sewing  is  all  done  with  ivory  needles  and 
with  thread  that  the  women  make  from  the 
sinew  of  the  white  whale,  the  walrus  and  the 
deer. 

In  all  this  domestic  economy  the  preparation 
of  food  plays  a  relatively  small  part,  and  though 
it  falls  to  the  share  of  the  women,  it  does  not 
add  much  to  their  labors,  because  they  eat  so 
much  of  their  food  in  a  raw  state.  Their  various 
occupations  keep  the  men  and  women  busy  during 
the  long  winters. 

WEAPONS 

The  armory  of  the  Kuskwogamiut  is  a  com- 
prehensive one.  The  largest  weapons  are  heavy 
harpoons  with  long  wooden  shafts  and  fore- 
shafts  of  ivory,  armed  with  an  ivory  head  tipped 
with  an  infixed  blade  or  point  of  flint.  This 
head  has  an  ingenious  releasing  device  and  is 
attached  to  a  long  line  of  walrus  hide.  When 
the  head  has  been  sunk  in  the  skin  of  the  whale, 
the  shaft  can  be  drawn  back  into  the  boat  by 
means  of  its  own  line  while  the  head  is  secured 
to  the  boat  by  a  strong  line  that  can  be  paid  out 
or  drawn  in  according  to  the  circumstances. 

Spears  of  different  types  are  used  for  walrus 
and  for  seal.     The  lighter  seal  spears  are  thrown 

219 


by  means  of  a  throwing  stick  that  is  a  part  of 
every  hunter's  equipment.  A  light  wooden  spear 
armed  with  three  prongs  of  ivory  is  used  with 
the  thrower  for  hunting  birds,  and  a  similar 
spear  is  sometimes  used  for  fishing.  In  fowling 
the  principal  weapons  are  the  bird  bola  of  ivory 
balls  and  sinew  strings,  and  the  bow  and  arrows. 
In  hunting  deer  or  any  large  land  animal,  there 
is  a  big  powerful  wooden  bow  backed  with  braided 
sinew  very  ingeniously  applied  in  strands.  The 
arrows  are  equipped  with  ivory  foreshafts  and 
long  sharp  flint  points.  The  same  bow  is  used 
in  fowling,  but  the  arrows  are  either  blunt  bolts 
or  ivory  pointed.  In  fishing  this  bow  is  employed 
again  with  a  different  type  of  arrow,  either  a 
single  long  notched  lance-like  point  or  three 
slender  notched  prongs  spreading  in  triangular 
fashion.  For  fishing  through  the  ice  there  is  a 
very  cleverly  made  fishhook  with  a  sinker  of 
ivory  and  stone  with  some  bits  of  color  that  act 
as  a  lure.  The  lines  used  with  these  hooks  are 
made  of  whalebone  because  the  water  will  not 
freeze  to  this  material. 

Snares  and  traps  are  used  for  ptarmigan,  hare, 
muskrat  and  squirrel.  The  characteristic  snare 
is  an  adaptation  of  the  running  noose  and  is 
made  of  whalebone. 


220 


A    WOMAN  S    HEADDRESS 


TOOLS 

Among  the  tools  that  find  employment  among 
the  Kuskwogamiut  a  special  honor  and  distinction 
attaches  to  the  great  axe  that  is  found  in  every 
kozgee.  This  axe  is  in  itself  an  institution  closely 
associated  with  the  communal  life  of  the  kozgee. 
A  certain  sacredness,  the  full  force  of  which  I 
was  not  able  to  learn,  attaches  to  this  implement. 
It  is  called  Kalthkapok  (Big  Raven)  and  it  is 
made  of  a  large  walrus  tusk  chipped  and  ground 
to  an  edge  at  one  end  and  lashed  to  a  stout  handle 
of  wood  by  means  of  strong  walrus  hide  thongs 
like  an  adze.  Its  use,  which  I  was  particular 
to  inquire  about,  was  solely  to  split  up  the  wood 
used  to  make  the  fires  in  the  kozgee.  This  wood 
must  not  be  divided  by  any  other  implement. 
The  Kalthkapok  is  always  kept  in  its  place  in 
the  kozgee. 

Adzes  of  stone  and  especially  of  jade  or  nephrite 
are  used  in  working  wood  and  ivory.  These 
vary  in  size  from  small  ones  with  blades  half 
an  inch  long  to  the  longer  ones  with  heavy  blades 
six  inches  or  more  in  length. 

Hammers  with  heads  of  jade  or  other  hard 
stone  have  handles  of  ivory,  bone  or  antler  well 
fitted  and  firmly  lashed  to  the  middle  so  that 
they  are  double  bitted. 

221 


An  implement  consisting  of  a  long  pole  with  a 
contrivance  at  the  end  made  up  of  a  bone  ring 
with  a  mesh  of  whalebone  is  used  as  an  ice  scoop 
to  keep  the  fishing  hole  free  from  ice  in  winter. 

The  ice  pick  is  a  stout  stick  shod  on  one  end 
with  a  strong  ivory  spike. 

Each  man  has  his  workbox,  an  oblong  or  oval 
box  averaging  about  a  foot  in  length  and  some- 
times very  tastefully  inlaid  with  ivory  and  with 
a  lid  that  is  kept  in  place  by  rawhide  hinges  and 
a  lashing  of  rawhide  that  slips  over  an  ivory 
catch  in  front.  In  this  box  will  always  be  found 
the  man's  knife,  formerly  made  of  jade  or  flint 
but  now  almost  invariably  made  of  a  bit  of  iron 
fastened  to  a  handle  of  bone.  The  shape  is 
always  the  same — a  short  curved  blade  on  a 
long  handle.  In  the  box  will  also  be  found  a 
bow  drill  in  three  parts,  a  scraper,  a  flint  chipper, 
a  few  pieces  of  graphite  for  marking,  a  whet- 
stone, a  pair  of  wooden  goggles  to  protect  the 
eyes  from  the  glare  of  the  sun  on  the  ice  in  the 
spring,  a  tobacco  box  and  various  miscellaneous 
articles. 

Every  woman  has  her  workbag.  In  it  will 
be  found  the  uluok  or  woman's  knife,  a  half 
moon  shaped  blade  of  iron  or  of  jade  inserted 
in  an  ivory  or  wooden  handle.  With  this,  the 
222 


A    GROUP    OF    KUSKWOGAMIUT    BASKETRY 


bag  will  be  sure  to  contain  a  bone  or  ivory  needle 
case  with  ivory  needles,  and  tastefully  decorated 
by  engraved  lines — a  present  from  husband, 
brother  or  lover — a  small  ivory  box  with  lid  for 
holding  small  articles  of  value,  a  wooden  case 
for  holding  earrings,  several  pairs  of  earrings, 
a  hank  of  sinew  for  making  thread  and  a  thimble 
or  two  in  addition  to  some  miscellaneous  articles. 
The  woman's  bag  is  a  small  pocket  with  a  long 
flap  to  roll  up  when  the  bag  is  closed.  It  has  a 
thong,  on  the  end  of  which  is  an  ivory  bar  for 
a  fastener.  This  bar  is  very  beautifully  made 
and  decorated  and,  like  the  needle-case  and  the 
little  ivory  box,  is  a  present  from  some  man. 

A  woman  usually  has  a  sealskin  bag  like  a 
shopping  satchel  with  an  ivory  handle  and  also 
a  fishskin  bag  tastefully  made,  for  her  spare 
clothes.  The  workbaskets  made  of  grass  with 
covers  are  very  neat  and  well  made  and  often 
have  simple  patterns  in  materials  of  a  different 
color  woven  in  for  decoration. 

THE    HOUSE    (iNNA) 

The  houses  of  the  Kuskwogamiut  are  built  of 
logs  over  a  shallow  excavation.  The  timbers 
are  cut  to  an  even  length  and  placed  in  a  vertical 
position  around  the  four  sides.     On  these  walls, 

223 


a  pyramidal  roof  is  supported  and  covered  with 
turf  on  which  moss  and  long  grass  may  grow  at 
will.  In  the  center  of  the  peak  is  a  small  opening 
for  light  and  for  ventilation.  This  hole  may  be 
closed  when  desired  by  a  frame  with  a  sheet 
of  seal  intestine  which  lets  in  light  and  keeps  out 
the  weather. 

A  covered  passage  or  tunnel  leads  from  the 
middle  of  one  side  and  connects  with  a  vestibule 
several  yards  from  the  house.  To  enter  the  house 
one  enters  the  vestibule,  passes  through  the 
tunnel  and  emerges  from  the  inner  end  of  the 
tunnel. 

On  each  of  the  other  three  sides  of  the  house 
is  a  raised  bench  about  six  feet  wide  against  the 
wall.  The  rear  platform,  opposite  the  entrance, 
is  a  place  of  honor.  All  three  platforms  are 
covered  with  grass  mats.  The  side  platforms 
are  divided  into  sections  or  compartments  by 
means  of  woven  grass  screens  suspended  from 
the  roof.  In  these  compartments  the  different 
members  of  the  family  sleep  and  procure  privacy. 
All  the  central  area  of  the  floor  is  the  bare  ground. 
When  a  wood  fire  is  required  it  is  kindled  in  the 
center  of  this  area. 

The  clay  lamps  by  which  the  house  is  lit  at 
night  are  heavy  saucers  about  eight  inches  in 
224 


diameter.  They  are  half  filled  with  seal  oil  with 
floating  wicks  of  moss  trimmed  on  the  edge  of 
the  rim.  The  lamp  is  either  placed  on  a  wooden 
stand  about  eighteen  inches  high  or  else  it  hangs 
from  the  roof  in  a  sling  made  of  grass  rope. 
Both  these  methods  are  in  use. 

The  cooking  pots  when  in  use  are  placed  directly 
in  the  fire. 

THE    KOZGEE 

The  kozgee  is  a  magnified  and  glorified  inna, 
but  its  architecture  differs  in  some  important 
respects  from  that  of  the  house.  It  is  sunken 
deep  in  the  earth  and  is  in  fact  a  large  dug-out 
lined  and  roofed  with  logs  and  entered  through 
a  tunnel  with  one  end  in  the  fire  pit  at  the  center 
and  the  other  end  connecting  with  a  covered 
vestibule  a  little  distance  away  in  the  landscape. 

The  floor  of  the  kozgee  is  made  of  rough  hewn 
logs.  In  the  center  these  logs  are  movable  over 
an  area  about  eight  feet  square.  This  space  is 
occupied  by  a  fire  pit.  When  the  fire  pit  is  not 
in  use,  the  logs  are  replaced.  Halfway  between 
the  floor  and  the  front  wall  there  is  an  oval  man- 
hole in  the  floor  connecting  with  the  tunnel. 
When  you  enter  the  kozgee  you  pass  through 
the  outer  entrance  which  lets  you  down  by  steps 

225 


to  the  floor  of  the  vestibule.  You  then  enter 
the  tunnel  in  a  stooping  posture  and  when  you 
arrive  at  the  hole  in  the  floor  you  stand  upright. 
Your  head  and  shoulders  are  then  in  the  interior 
and  the  rest  of  you  is  below.  You  then  place 
your  hands  on  the  floor  and  draw  yourself  up. 
To  go  out  you  lower  yourself  through  the  hole. 

The  size  of  the  kozgee  varies;  the  largest 
that  I  saw  was  the  one  in  a  deserted  village  at 
the  mouth  of  the  river.  It  measured  forty  feet 
square,  but  some,  I  believe,  are  much  larger  and 
again  some  are  smaller.  I  was  told  of  a  ruined 
village  on  the  bay  with  a  kozgee  more  than  twice 
as  large  as  the  largest  I  saw.  Ogovik  had  a  good 
sized  one  and  that  at  Ohagamiut  was  also  large. 
I  do  not  know  if  there  is  at  this  time  any  village 
with  more  than  one  kozgee,  but  we  were  told 
by  the  old  people  at  Mamtrelich  and  Ohagamiut 
that  in  old  times  the  populous  villages  had  many 
kozgees. 

Everything  in  the  kozgee  is  carefully  arranged 
according  to  rule.  About  the  four  sides  against 
the  wall  is  a  bench  three  feet  high  made  of  rough 
hewn  planks  supported  on  posts.  At  a  height 
of  about  four  feet  above  this  a  broad  shelf  is  like- 
wise carried  round  the  four  sides.  In  some 
cases  there  is  a  third  and  narrower  shelf  still 
226 


higher  up.  When  the  kozgee  is  full  of  people 
to  witness  some  spectacle  or  to  celebrate  a  festival 
these  shelves  are  all  lined  with  people  closely 
packed  together,  the  boys  occupying  the  upper 
shelf  all  the  way  round. 

It  would  take  a  volume  to  describe  all  the 
uses  of  the  kozgee.  In  the  first  place,  it  belongs 
to  the  men  of  the  village.  The  bachelors  all 
live  there  and  each  man  has  his  assigned  place. 
It  is  also  the  place  where  strangers  are  enter- 
tained if  they  are  men.  It  is,  besides,  the  work- 
shop, clubhouse,  playhouse,  lodge  and  bath  of 
the  village.  No  cooking  is  ever  done  in  the 
kozgee.  When  meal  time  comes  each  man  has 
his  food  brought  to  him  by  one  of  his  female 
relations  (mother  or  sister  or  wife),  who  passes 
it  up  through  the  floor  in  kantuks.  She  must 
not  enter  the  kozgee.  Afterwards  the  women 
return,  one  by  one,  and  the  empty  dishes  are 
passed  out  to  them.  Only  when  the  festivals 
and  dances  are  held  do  the  women  enter  the 
kozgee.  Then  they  are  present  both  as  spectators 
and  as  performers. 

To  prepare  the  sweat  bath  the  logs  are  removed 
from  the  fire  pit  and  the  big  axe  is  used  to  split 
up  a  pile  of  wood  into  thin  fagots.  The  men 
only  indulge  in  the  frivolity  of  the  sweat  bath. 

227 


They  are  very  fond  of  it.  I  believe  that  in  all 
probability  the  women  consider  it  a  waste  of  good 
firewood.  The  women  never  acquired  club  houses 
of  their  own;  they  are,  however,  mistresses  in 
their  own  homes  and  they  are  content  to  stay 
there. 

CLEANLINESS 

The  problem  of  keeping  clean  under  the  condi- 
tions of  life  that  obtain  in  such  a  community 
as  a  Kuskwogamiut  village  is  a  serious  one.  It 
cannot  be  said  that  the  people  are  clean  in  their 
persons  or  in  their  houses.  Indeed,  according 
to  some  standards,  they  are  dirty  and  they  find 
it  impossible  to  rid  themselves  of  vermin.  I 
doubt  whether  this  is  due  to  a  disposition  to  be 
dirty  so  much  as  to  necessity.  Father  Barnum, 
the  gifted  and  courageous  author  of  the  Inniut 
grammar,  who  lived  in  a  village  about  a  hundred 
miles  from  the  Kuskokwim  on  the  coast,  gives 
an  illuminating  account  of  his  own  experiences 
in  a  letter  printed  for  private  circulation  in  1893. 
The  passage  to  which  I  have  reference  is  a  classic 
that  deserves  to  be  better  known,  and  I  there- 
fore reproduce  it  here  by  permission. 

"In  Alaska,  the  louse  and  the  missionary 
are    'one    and    inseparable,'    of   course    this 
intimacy    is    entirely    due    to    the    obstinate 
228 


infatuation  of  the  louse.  In  the  beginning, 
the  missionary  rejects  the  overtures  of  the 
insinuating  insect,  and  seeks  to  avoid  com- 
panionship, but  his  efforts  are  in  vain,  the 
louse  will  not  be  repulsed;  the  intimacy 
is  inevitable.  Humiliating  as  the  confession 
may  sound,  it  is  sad  but  true.  We  are  all 
lousy,  and  we  are  lousy  all  the  time!  When 
I  landed  at  St.  Michael's,  we  camped  on  the 
bluff  for  two  weeks,  while  the  steamer  dis- 
charged cargo.  Soon  I  noticed  a  little  rash 
which  broke  out  on  my  neck.  I  paid  no 
attention  to  it,  expecting  that  it  would  soon 
pass  away.  Next  I  became  convinced  that 
I  had  caught  the  itch;  I  knew  nothing  about 
lice  then,  and  so  I  felt  badly  over  'my  itch/ 
but  determined  not  to  say  anything  about 
it  to  Fr.  Tosi,  until  after  the  steamer  had 
left  the  port,  for  I  did  not  want  to  be  sent 
back.  Keeping  quiet  when  with  the  fathers 
was  a  trial  too  hard  to  describe.  One  day, 
however,  I  had  to  rub  a  speck  on  the  shoulder 
of  my  coat,  and  a  father  remarked  'So  you 
have  gotten  some  already,'  and  added,  to 
my  great  amazement,  'that  his  were  worrying 
him.'  That  settled  it,  I  could  remain  in 
Alaska,   and   could   scratch  freely,   morning, 

229 


noon  and  night.  It  is  impossible  to  keep 
free  from  these  pests.  New  comers  try  it 
but  soon  give  it  up.  Every  time  you  enter 
a  casine  you  get  a  fresh  supply.  Every 
native  who  comes  near  you  leaves  you  a 
fresh  contribution.  The  chapel  is  full  of 
them  after  every  service.  When  you  visit 
the  sick  or  come  in  contact  with  the  people 
in  any  way,  you  are  bound  to  catch  them, 
and  they  abound  the  whole  year.  We  simply 
have  to  get  used  to  them  and  be  satisfied 
with  keeping  the  number  down  by  constant 
vigilance.  'I  have  just  killed  fifty,'  is  a 
common  remark.  Let  me  suggest  here,  in 
parentheses, — Do  not  bring  gray  underwear 
up  here;  crede  experto,  there  is  not  contrast 
enough.  You  may  say,  'this  is  perfectly 
horrid,  why  don't  the  fathers  wash?'  It 
is  horrid,  I  know,  and  promptly  admit, 
but  still  these  are  facts  Alaskan;  now  about 
washing,  there's  the  rub!  Their  apparel, 
which  consists  of  a  fur  'parki'  and  a  pair 
of  long  boots,  is  never  subjected  to  the  ordeal 
of  the  wringer  and  mangle." 
I  am  sure  that  this  Homeric  passage  will  rouse 

responsive    feelings    in    every    true   Alaskan    and 

make  him  homesick  for  the  north. 

230 


CUSTOMS    AND    BELIEFS 

Each  family  occupies  its  own  separate  house. 
Though  a  man  may  have  more  than  one  wife, 
the  practice  of  polygamy  is  not  encouraged. 
Each  village  manages  its  own  affairs.  As  among 
the  Innuit  everywhere,  each  village  has  its  head 
man,  who  takes  the  lead  in  all  matters  by  general 
consent.  The  medicine  man,  called  UNGULKUK, 
does  not  acquire  any  great  authority,  though  he  is 
respected  on  account  of  his  supposed  power  over 
spirits.  There  are  many  evil  spirits  abroad  every- 
where ready  to  make  mischief,  and  they  must  be 
circumvented,  hence  the  necessity  of  observing 
many  customs  that  seem  incomprehensible  to  the 
stranger.  There  is  a  devil  called  TUNOOK  and  a 
good  spirit  called  UNOELRAH.  There  is  an  abode 
of  the  dead  whence  the  spirits  may  be  called  to 
take  part  with  the  living  according  to  a  well  regu- 
lated process.  Feasts  are  given  in  honor  of  the  dead 
at  intervals  of  five  year  periods  at  which  they  are 
believed  to  be  actually  present  in  the  kozgee. 

Story  telling,  play  acting  and  singing  songs 
made  for  the  occasion  are  among  the  diversions. 
Crime  is  very  rare  and  acts  of  kindness  and 
devotion  are  common. 

The  raven  among  the  animals  that  figure  in  the 
myths  appears  to  have  been  a  great  hero. 

231 


The  Mammoth,  the  bones  of  which  are  some- 
times found  buried  in  the  tundra,  formerly  lived 
in  the  sea,  but  he  was  driven  out  by  a  monster 
called  AGLU,  the  whale's  partner,  much  more 
powerful  than  the  whale.  He  has  long  teeth 
and  his  jaws  work  horizontally.  When  Keelugbuk 
(the  Mammoth)  was  driven  out  of  the  sea  by 
Aglu  he  was  so  heavy  that  he  sank  in  the  land 
and  went  swimming  through  the  earth  as  he 
had  formerly  done  in  the  sea,  but  being  unable 
to  get  enough  food  underground,  he  eventually 
died  and  his  kind  became  extinct. 

They  tell  stories  too  of  a  great  sea  serpent, 
though  there  are  no  snakes  in  Alaska,  and  they 
have  old  ivories  with  pictures  of  all  these  animals. 
I  procured,  near  the  mouth  of  the  Yukon  in  1905, 
from  an  old  man,  an  ivory  bow  for  a  drill.  It 
was  yellow  with  age  and  worn  from  use  in  the 
hand.  The  owner  said  that  he  counted  eleven 
generations  that  it  had  been  in  his  family.  It 
had  not  been  made  by  forebears  of  his,  but  was 
already  old  when  it  came  into  the  possession  of 
a  direct  ancestor  eleven  generations  back.  On 
it  are  engraved  pictures  that  he  identified  as 
those  of  Aglu,  Keelugbuk,  Tunook  and  a  big  deer 
now  extinct. 

There  are  also  pictures  of  men  and  walrus  and 

232 


whales  and  deer  and   trees  and  villages  on  this 
old  relic. 

STORY   TELLING 

The  men  are  the  story  tellers  and  the  custodians 
of  legends.  In  this  they  manifest  a  great  interest 
and  much  skill.  The  stories  are  learned  by  the 
young  men  from  their  elders,  carefully  memorized 
and  practiced  with  much  industry  and  attention 
to  detail.  The  same  story  is  always  told  in  the 
same  words,  with  the  same  intonations  and  the 
same  gestures.  If  a  story  teller  makes  a  mistake 
some  one  among  his  hearers  is  sure  to  correct 
him.  Some  of  the  stories  are  very  long  and 
occupy  hours  in  the  telling.  Many  of  them  refer 
to  the  doings  of  mythical  beings,  animals  and 
men,  and  these  stories  may  be  said  to  constitute 
a  body  of  epical  literature  that  is  rich  in  expedient 
and  striking  in  form.*  A  good  story  teller  always 
finds  an  audience  and  though  the  story  be  old 
they  never  tire  of  hearing  it.  A  collection  of 
these  tales  would  fill  many  volumes. 

There  is  a  long  cycle  of  myths  about  the  Raven 
as  the  creator  and   teacher  that  forms  an  epic 


*  According  to  Nelson  the  same  body  of  myths  are  the  com- 
mon property  of  all  the  Eskimo  of  the  Coast  up  as  far  as  Cape 
Prince  of  Wales.  Bureau  of  American  Ethnology,  ANNUAL 
REPORT. 

233 


of  extraordinary  interest.  A  young  man  at  the 
Bethel  Mission  volunteered  to  relate  the  story 
of  the  Raven  for  me.  He  told  a  section  each 
day,  but  he  had  not  finished  when  we  left. 

The  part  played  by  the  Raven  in  the  mythology 
and  in  the  social  life  of  the  Kuskwogamiut  finds 
its  parallel  among  the  Tlingit  of  the  Southeast 
Coast,  a  thousand  miles  away  as  the  crow  flies. 
Yehl,  the  Raven  among  the  latter  people,  is  also 
a  culture  hero,  and  each  clan  in  a  village  usually 
has  one  house  that  takes  his  name;  Yehlhit 
or  Raven  House.  There  is  no  such  social  organi- 
zation among  any  of  the  Eskimo  as  is  found 
among  the  Tlingit,  but  a  ruined  village  on  the 
lower  Kuskokwim  had  the  name  Kalthka  (Raven) 
and  its  vanished  inhabitants  were  known  as 
Kalthkamiut  (Raven  People).  I  have  elsewhere 
mentioned  that  the  sacred  axe  of  the  kozgee 
is  called  Kalthkapok:    Big  Raven. 

There  is  another  class  of  stories  that  is  the 
property  of  the  women.  They  are  simple  animal 
stories  that  they  tell  the  children. 

DRIFTWOOD 

Wood  is  used  by  the  Kuskwogamiut  for  the 
construction  of  their  houses,  frames  of  their 
kyaks   and    angiaks,    dog   sleds,    harpoon    shafts, 

234 


bows  and  arrows,  kantuks  or  wooden  dishes, 
for  the  fires  of  the  kozgee  and  for  a  variety  of 
minor  purposes.  With  the  exception  of  the 
few  villages  about  Kolmakoff  they  get  their 
supply  of  wood  from  the  sea.  Trees  torn  from 
the  river  bank  in  the  interior  by  the  spring  floods 
are  carried  out  to  sea  and  after  being  afloat  per- 
haps for  months  are  brought  in  and  deposited 
on  the  beaches  by  the  tides.  By  this  time  the 
logs  are  well  seasoned  and  ready  to  be  worked. 

TRADE 

A  certain  amount  of  trade  is  carried  on  between 
the  Eskimo  communities  and  also  between  the 
Eskimo  and  the  Tinneh.  The  Tinneh  tribes 
make  the  best  kantuks  and  these,  together  with 
birchbark  vessels,  are  traded  to  the  Eskimo. 
Deer  skins  and  deer  tallow  are  also  articles  of 
barter.  Wolverine  skins  required  for  the  trim- 
ming of  the  women's  fur  garments  come  to  the 
Kuskwogamiut  from  long  distances  in  trade. 

The  gatherings  which  take  place  in  the  winter 
at  the  Eskimo  villages  when  distant  villages  are 
invited  to  take  part  have  the  effect  of  stimulating 
trade  relations. 


235 


APPENDIX  C 
The  Language  of  the  Kuskwogamiut 

The  language  of  the  Kuskwogamiut  does  not 
differ  in  any  material  respect  from  the  Innuit  in 
other  parts  of  Alaska.  The  differences  are  slight 
and  consist  in  pronunciation  and  to  an  even  less 
extent  in  vocabulary.  The  grammatical  structure 
is  uniform. 

The  study  of  this  language  has  been  well  done 
by  Father  Francis  Barnum.*  It  is,  therefore,  not 
worth  my  while  to  discuss  it.  From  the  material 
that  I  gathered  I  simply  give  two  short  vocabu- 
laries that  may  serve  for  comparison. 


SIKMIUT 

I 

Ataujuk 

2 

Malruk 

3 

Pingayun 

4 

Stamun 

5 

Taliman 

6 

Agovinlugu 

7 

Malrunlugu 

8 

Pingayunlugu 

*  INNUIT  LANGUAGE  by  Francis  Barnum,  S.J. 
236 


9  Kulunritaran — one  from  ten 

10  Kulun 

ii  Kula  ataujimuk  chiplugu — ten  and  one 

12  Kula  malruk  chiplugu — ten  and  two 

13  Kula  pingayun  chiplugu — ten  and  three 

14  Kula  stamun  chiplugu — ten  and  four 

15  Agimiuk 

16  Agimin  ataujimuk  chiplugu — fifteen  and  one 

17  Agimin  malruk  chiplugu — fifteen  and  two 

18  Agimin    pingayunuk   chiplugu — fifteen   and 

three 

19  Uinunritaran — one  from  twenty 

20  Uinuk — a  man 

21  Uinuk  ataujimuk  chiplugu — twenty  and  one 

22  Uinuk  malruk  chiplugu — twenty  and  two 

23  Uinuk  pingayun  chiplugu — twenty  and  three 

24  Uinuk  stamun  chiplugu — twenty  and  four 

25  Uinuk  taliman  chiplugu — twenty  and  five 

30  Uinuk  kulunuk  chiplugu — twenty  and  ten 

31  Uinuk  kulunuk  chiplugu  ataujimuk  chiplugu 

— twenty  and  ten  and  one 

40  Malruk  epeat — two  men 

50  Malruk  epeat  kulunuk  chiplugu — two  twen- 
ties and  ten 

100  Taliman  epeat — five  men 

500  Uinun    talimanuk    epeat    chiplugu — twenty 
times  twenty  five 

237 


Sikmiut  Vocabulary 
Kingukleoka,  brother 
Neagaka,  sister 
Artuga,  father 
Anuga,  mother 
Nulichga,  married  man 
Uinga,  bachelor 
Araiavvik,  chief 
Eidpaka,  partner 
Umaluchdut,  plenty 
Pedeiduk,  all  gone,  it  is  finished 
Muk,  water 

Mukeiawik,  bath-house  (literally  watering-place) 
Mukeiunga,  to  wash  (literally  to  water) 
Kofchinik,  how  much 
Anogwa,  wind 
Napat,  woods 
Tonot,  picture     • 
Patiktuk,  tobacco 
Puluchtuduk,  pipe 
Uluok,  woman's  knife 
Plajinok,  string 
Aihruk,  cat's  cradle 
Kasachtawok,  larger  log  house 
Amireek,  fish  skin  boots 
Shakalok,  sugar 
Pachguluk,  bark  basket 
238 


Kaluviak,  wooden  dish  made  in  two  parts 

Ugaiuk,  wooden  dish  dug  out 

Tultuk,  flat  bark  dish 

Chowot,  blueberries 

Kokiuk,  a  kind  of  salmon  like  the  dog  salmon 

Ikaialuk,  dog  salmon 

Ishalok,  porcupine 

Koftsitsok,  marten 

Imogamukdok,  mink 

Tuntu,  caribou 

Tuntuok,  moose 

Kaymuchta,  dog 

Paloktok,  beaver 

Iligawok,  muskrat 

Chuginiok,  otter 

Kongainok,  squirrel 

Kubwiok,  fox 

Treikunyok,  wolverine 

Kugilunuk,  wolf 

Kaymuch  kaiuk,  little  dog 

Olumuk,  bow 

Unadit,  hand 

Tali,  arm 

Itagat,  foot 

I  row,  leg 

Usuk,  head 

Ung,  eye 

239 


Kungok,  nose 
Chin,  ear 
Kanuk,  mouth 
Kudikt,  teeth 
Auok,  blood 
Nutaak,  white  fish 
Taiukbuk,  kingsalmon 
Ulik,  blanket 
Na,  house 

Kozgee,  dance  house 
Hon,  canoe 
Ingilok,  bed 

Platikok,  tent 

Igummok,  sled 

Kurok,  cache 

Irarluk,  moon 

Chishluk,  calendar 

Aguchda,  sun 

Hlilabuk,  rain 

Tangaluk,  snow-shoe 

Kubiukiunok,  moosehide  thong 

Atkuk,  the  native  coat 

Kaimuksok,  woman's  boots 

Malachiok,  cap 

Airoktat,  glove 

Aleeman,  mitten 

Plumon,  skin  scraper 

240 


Snok,  river 

Ingarak,  mountain 

Cosit,  white  man 

Oginut.  woman 

Nikalingut,  baby 

Stoluk,  bench 

Unamuk,  today 

Ayuchtoa,  I  go 

Ayalchouunga,  I  went 

Ayuchchukoa,  I  will  go 

Ayuchtudn,  you  go 

Ayalchoudn,  you  went 

Ayuchchukoudn.  you  will  go 

Ayuchtuk,  he  goes 

A\  alchouk.  he  went 

Ayuchchugouk,  he  will  go 

Ayuchtut,  they  go 

Ayalchout,  they  went 

Ayuchchugout,  they  will  go 

Ayagadachtoa,  I  am  going  to  go  away 

Ayuchtoa  Mamtrelich  nnin,  I  am  going  to  Mam- 
trelich 

Ayalchouunga  Mamtrelich  mun.  I  went  to  Mam- 
trelich 

Ayuchchukoa  Mamtrelich  mun,  I  will  go  to  Mam- 
trelich 

Ayagachtoa,  I  am  going  immediately 

-4i 


Ayachtognarchtoa,  I  go  quickly 
Ayangsatoa,  I  go  slowly 
Ayagfalirchtoa,  I  go  far 
Ajuchtuk,  good 
Ajuchtukiouk,  a  good  man 
Chamai,  form  of  greeting 
Toingunaiduk,  good  bye 
Tadugaluk,  black  bear 
Tagouka,  brown  bear 
Nutchtoa,  I  shoot 
Nutchtudn,  you  shoot 
Nutchtok,  he  shoots 

MAMTRELICHMIUT    VOCABULARY 

Mamtrelichmiut,  the  people  of  Mamtrelich 

Achluk,  whale 

Tuntuok,  caribou 

Tuntu,  reindeer 

Kaymuchta,  dog 

Kantuk,  large  wooden  dish 

Kanchugach,  small  wooden  dish 

Uiluk,  small  wooden  spoon 

Ipun,  large  wooden  spoon 

Agumuk,  basket 

Kanohuk,  lamp  (pottery) 

Kanoadjoch,  small  lamp 

Agumadjoch,  little  basket 

242 


Uiludjoch,  small  little  spoon 
Mikchoyok,  small  one 
Mikuk,  small 
Asituk,  bad 
Ankeituk,  'tis  a  pity 
Asitkapichtuk,  very  bad 
Chuknuk  asituk,  very  bad 
Kofchijoch,  marten 
Imogamenchduk,  mink 
Tagouka,  brown  bear 
Tannigagale,  black  bear 
Tunguilara,  black 
Unuk,  night 
Ugunuk,  day 
Aguchta,  sun 
Igaaluk,  moon 
Tannaguk,  dark 
Tannagechtuk,  daylight 
Unnuok,  dawn 
Agunuk,  woman 
Agunuk  kogoluk,  old  woman 
Najanaluk,  little  girl 
Tannaganaluk,  little  boy 
Unadit,  hand 
Itgut,  foot 
Talik,  arm 
Eruk,  leg 

243 


Kanguk,  nose 

Kanuk,  mouth 

Nunyut,  hair 

Kamiakuk,  head 

Uiakut,  neck 

Awk,  blood 

Whee,  I 

Ichlpik,  you 

Ihlhee,  he 

Ihleid,  they 

Eidpaka,  partner 

Eidpanee,  next  one 

Chikeringuh,  give  me 

Nitka,  my  house 

Nin,  your  house 

Inni,  his  house 

Aginuk,  skin  boat 

Uk,  man  (singular) 

In,  men  (dual) 

Iut,  men  (plural) 

Akleitik,  earrings 

Ingavit,  mountains 

Taghoyammaghrotik,  finger  mask 

Urok,  dance 

Ashuchtuk,  good 

Anguk,  big 

Angavichtuk,  too  big 

244 


Kaningsuchta,  poet  or  story  teller 

Ungulkuk,  medicine  man 

Anuganuk,  evil  spirits 

Tunook,  devil 

Unoelrah,  a  good  spirit 

Ayuchtoa,  I  go 

Ayuchtudn,  you  go 

Ayuchtuk,  he  goes 

Kaylun    yakschichta    Ogovik,    how   far    is    it    to 

Ogovik 
Ugunut  malruk,  it  is  two  days 
Ugunut  pingayun,  it  is  three  days 
Ugunrut  amlarut,  it  is  many  days 
Natmun  ayuchchit,  where  are  you  going 

Interpretation  of  Pictures  on  an  Old 
Drill  Bow 

Obverse 

1.  Aglu,  the  whale's  partner,  living  in  the  sea. 

2.  Keelugpuk,  the  mammoth. 

3.  A  great  deer,   the  partner  of  the  reindeer 

living  in   the  sea  and   afterwards  on   the 
land;   now  extinct. 

4.  Amakum,  the  partner  of  the  wolf  living  on 

the  land,  now  extinct. 

5.  Tunook,  the  devil  living  on  the  land. 

245 


9 
io 
ii 


6.     An  extinct  monster  living  on  the  land  with 
dark  skin  but  no  hair. 
Tuntu,  the  deer. 
Napoktuk,  growing  trees. 
The  hunter. 
? 

Two  men  making  angiak. 
12,  13,  14.     A  village  with  an  Eskimo  on  top  of 
house. 

15.  A  cache. 

16.  A  deer  hide  stretched  out  on  the  ground. 

17.  Pieces  of  flesh. 

Reverse 
1,  2,  3,  4.     Whale  hunt  with  three  angiaks  and 
two  whales. 

5.  Walrus  hunt. 

6.  Boat    containing    men    with    their    amulets 

having  a  good  time  after  the  walrus  hunt. 

7.  8,  9.     Walrus  hunt  with  two  angiaks  and  two 

walrus. 

10.  Whale. 

11.  Whale  hunting  boat. 

12.  Village. 

13.  Cache. 

Aglu  is  a  sea  monster  bigger  than  the  whale. 
246 


(s 


cr>s 


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^> 


I  [3  14  15  16  "7 


(Rl^^ 


sSSP 

13  iT^ 


u 


C 


He  has  long  sharp  teeth  and  jaws  that  work 
horizontally. 

Keelugpuk,  the  Mammoth,  once  lived  in  the 
sea,  but  was  driven  out  by  the  Aglu.  He  was 
too  heavy  to  walk  on  the  surface  of  the  ground, 
but  he  swam  through  the  land  just  as  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  do  in  the  sea.  Keelugpuk  is 
now  extinct,  but  long  ago  the  Eskimo  used  to  kill 
and  eat  him  when  he  rose  to  the  surface  of  the 
earth. 

A  great  deer  much  larger  than  the  caribou  or 
moose  which  formerly  lived  in  Alaska  and  was 
hunted  by  the  ancestors  of  the  Eskimo.  This 
animal,  "the  partner  of  the  reindeer,"  first  lived 
in  the  sea,  but  was  driven  out,  together  with 
Keelugpuk,  by  Aglu,  and  for  a  long  time  he  con- 
tinued to  live  on  the  land. 

Amakum  is  described  as  a  huge  monster  that 
formerly  lived  on  the  tundra  and  frequented 
pools. 

Tunook  is  the  devil.  He  is  sometimes  seen  by 
hunters  on  the  lonely  tundra. 


247 


UAKK 


SKETCH     V1AP    MADE    UNDER    THE    DIRECTION    OF    CHIEF 
AT    TANANA    FOR    THE    AUTHOR    IN    IQO5 


MAP  01    \L-\SK\  SHOWING 


'm\  •  - 


MAP      OF 

CENTRAL  ALASKA 


SCALE 

STATUTE    MILES 


25 

=4 


[INCHUMINA 


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